#i don’t know how to drive my grades are still shit I never do anything other than try tobe funny online and stay in bed

[valentimmy]

i feel like shit these days lmfao.

[incidentallysunny]

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 on him when she gets home from work later) 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.

[persephonesdreams21]

NSFW Alphabet with Kyle

A/N: So like, I’ve had this in my drafts forever and I finally got around to tidying it up(sort of) and finishing it. In a perfect world where I had free time, I’d love to do headcannons for all of Timmy’s characters. In reality I’ll probably only get a few more in,

Warnings: NSFW. Smut- def talks of dom/sub undertones and just generally horny themes. I mean, the title is very self explanatory. Kyle x AFAB! Reader

After Care(what they're like after sex):

The first time you have sex with Kyle, aftercare isn’t a practice he’s ever partook in. He comes and makes you come and then is ready to pop a cigarette in his mouth and call it a night.

This rubs you all the way wrong.

Has you wobbling out of bed and pulling on your clothes in a furious, flustered silence.

“What are you doing- hey. Y/N. What the hell?” He watches you, big green eyes accusatory as you prepare to leave. Your steps shaky and uncoordinated. He hadn’t exactly gone easy on you. “Sit down, you can barely walk”

“Like you care” you scoff. “it’s fine, I’m just gonna go”

He sighs, not one for dramatics that aren’t his own. “You’re gonna hurt yourself”

“I’m not some random piece of ass that you can screw and discard, Kyle. Fuck you very much for thinking so” your words are venomous and sharp, but your bottom lip is wobbling. Your eyes are stormy and still slightly unfocused and woah.

Holy shit. He’s a douchebag but he’s not an idiot. He spends way too much time online and he’s able to put together what’s going on pretty damn quick.

You’re dropping.

He can’t let you leave like this. Hell, you shouldn’t be up from bed much less driving in this state..

Kyle doesn’t do aftercare, we’ll at least he hadn’t before.

It’s all kind of clunky, him bullying your purse from your weak hands and batting away any resistance. Him sitting you on the edge of his bed and leaving, just long enough, to return with a glass of water and a stray granola bar. He sits close by, hovering. His hand a solid, but silent comfort on your thigh.

You don’t cry, won’t in front of him, but god do you want to.

You end up stripped back down to your panties and under his plaid comforter once he deems you hydrated enough.

He still smokes his after-sex cig, but this time he has you tucked into his side. Your cheek smushed to his chest as he puffs on nicotine. The fingers of his free hand dancing along the skin of your back.

He’d deny it, but he’s a sucker for aftercare now.

Body Part)their fave body part of theirs, and of their partners

Kyle likes his height. He enjoys towering over crowds, being the tallest person in the room. It makes him feel strong(and like when he was little he was a shrimp- he had a late growth spurt in 9th grade)

Kyle likes your hands. They’re all teeny and delicate and he tends to play with your fingers absentmindedly. He also likes the pudge on your sides. They’re called love handles for a reason. Any time he reaches for them you screech and shy away but like. That doesn’t stop him ever.

Cum(anything to do with it)

He’s the first man to ever make you squirt and yeah, that goes to his head a little bit. He’ll finger fuck you until youre sobbing and clawing at his arms, whimpering at the mess that he seems to love.

Dirty Secret(self explanatory)

He’s a panty thief. Will literally steal your panties and keep them(and sniff them, often). You complain about it, because he’s such a weirdo and because cute underwear can get expensive! He doesn’t care.

Experience(how experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

For how much sex he’s had he lowkey wasn’t great at it when you guys started fooling around. Or maybe it’s that he never cared- to get good at getting his partner off. Kyle is a selfish lover. You def teach him all the tricks in your book on how to make you feel good. And once that boy knows? He KNOWS. He’s able to flip you over and make you come in two minutes flat.

Favorite Position(this goes without saying)

Kyle loves doggy. He wants you bent over, unable to do anything but take him. Also partial to reverse cowgirl.

Goofy(are they more serious in the moment? Are they goofy?)

He is soooo serious it’s almost laughable. He gets offended when you laugh at the smoldering look on his face while he fucks you. It makes you nervous- you can’t help but giggle.

Hair(how well groomed they are)

Very well groomed. Neatly trimmed. He can’t pretend he doesn’t care about societal norms all he wants, Kyle is a total preener and loves taking care of his appearance. I mean, look at his hair. You just know it takes him a ridiculous amount of time to do in the morning.

Intimacy(how they are during the moment? The romantic aspect)

At first- intimacy isnt even in Kyles vocabulary. He doesnt know how, he doesnt understand it. It makes him feel awkward as hell. Slowly but surely as your relationship developes he starts to crave it. He wants you to stare into his eyes while you ride him, your fingers interlocked. Its tantric. Addicting.

Jack Off(masturbation headcanon)

Porn addict. All conspiracy obsessed, internet surfing boys are. He loves reading Manga and watching anime porn. You’ll indulge him and watch it with him sometimes.

“Hey, I have a toy that looks just like that!” You make the offhanded comment as the two of you watch an animated girl with big tits in a school uniform getting railed by a tentacle monster.

You’re immersed in the video. The raunchy sounds of high pitched squealing and skin slapping fill the quiet room. The blinds are drawn and the two of you lie cuddled together in his bed.

Kyle stares at you. His brain short circuiting.

You’d said it so casually. You have a toy- that looks just like the giant tentacle on his computer screen.

“You’re lying” he deadpans and it makes you giggle.

“Maybe one day I’ll show you” you shrug and like. What the fuck. Where did you even come from?

When you send him a short video of a pink glass tentacle dildo sliding in and stretching your wet hole…well let’s say that he doesn’t have to turn to his anime porn for spank bank material anymore.

Kink(one or more of their kinks)

Kyle loves overstimulation and edging. Both him doing it to you and you doing it to him. Like full on tears, shaking, emotional breakdowns, orgasms that are so good they hurt. Ugh. It’s his favorite.

Location(favorite places to do the do?)

Anywhere. Although, he def has a thing for sliding inside of you after a show. The adrenaline of playing live still coursing through his veins as he crowds you into the handicapped stall of some grimy venue bathroom and fucks you raw, his jeans around his ankles.

Motivation(what turns them on? Get’s them going?)

He loves it when you’re jealous. He's not ignorant to the way that women(and men tbh) look at him. React to him. It's always been this way, really it doesn't phase him anymore.

But you? You hate that shit.

You hate the way you can be holding his hand, and still girls will come up to him. Wink at him from across the room, waitresses leaving their phone numbers on napkins. Its maddening,

Kyle reassures you with words, with kisses and promises. He’s yours. He isn't interested in wasting energy on any of them. You're his only girl.

Still, the way you stake your claim makes him feral. When you suck bruises into his throat or wrap your arms around his waist. Don't even get him started on the time that you threw a drink in that girls face at that one party(she’d told Kyle he had like, the best hair, and reached for his dark curls. Her hand never even made it close) its just so hot. Knowing that you want him that much,

No(something they wouldn't do? Turns off’s)

So he likes it when you’re jealous, right? But you making him jealous? Is completely off the table. He will, and has, freaked out about it. He could never do threesomes or any kind of group play, he’d lose his shit.

Oral(preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc?

Kyle loves getting head. “Selfish lover alert”. It’s a chore you’re happy to perform, you love suckling at his big cock. Playing with his pink tip-

But like. He also enjoys going down on you. When the two of you first started sleeping together, you were really self conscious about it. Something about your shitty ex not liking the mess. Which like, he’ll never understand.

Your pussy is so gorgeous. All puffy and pretty for him, swollen and sopping wet. Hes such a tease with his quick tongue and little kisses. It’s not until you’re writhing and begging and forcing his dark haired head deeper that he really goes to town.

Pace(are they fast and rough, slow and sensual?)

The mans good with his hips, it's the musician in him. He has rhythm. But he is still just a young man, and he does end up getting sloppy and messy towards the end. Chasing his high like a mad man

Quickie(their opinions on quickies, how often?)

Loves a good quickie- but you’re not a huge fan. He’s very good at convincing you though, at dragging you into dark corners and palming at your body through your clothes.

Risk(are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

Yup, he loves that shit. He's such an exhibitionist You warn him that it is in fact, illegal. That public indecency can end in heavy fines, “The sex offenders list, Ky! I’m serious!”

But like, you always end up caving. Letting him fuck your brains out in his car. Spreading your legs when he reaches under the restaurant table, his fingers grazing your soft inner thigh, playing with your clit through your panties. If you wore a skirt for easy access…well thats your own business.

Stamina(how many rounds can they go? How long can they last?)

He’s a lazy little thing, I just know it. You get a couple rounds out of him and then he’s laying back and demanding you ride him, your turn to do the work.

“You’re my pillow princess, huh, baby?” you purr as you climb ontop of him, rubbing your wet slit along his flagging erection. You know he’ll get back to full hardness soon enough.

For now, he lies back, hands behind his head. Lounging, barley awake, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. You give his plump lips a wet smack and they twitch up in amusement.

“Princess? Whatever” He sasses, feigning offense. Even as he lets you do all the work, reaching between your own legs to fist at his cock, leading the head to your waiting hole.

“Prince then” you smile as you sink down and he groans, the veins in his neck straining as he throws his head back into the soft down pillows. He’s more than happy to let you do all the work.

Toys(do they own toys? Will they use them?)

He’s bleh about them. I think he’s inquisitive by nature, and likes to think of himself as explorative but like- he doesn't want anything but his cock filling you and making you feel good. He does enjoy watching you use them on yourself,

Unfair(how much they like to tease)

He is the absolute WORST tease. He loves riling you up. It makes him so hot, the way he can get you so desperate for him.

Volume(how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc)

Kyle’s a quiet lover, he grits his teeth and lets out long sighs You love getting him to crack, making him moan and writhe and gasp.

X-Ray(let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I’d hate to say this because he already has a massive ego, but he has a pretty big dick too. Maybe right above garage. 7 inches. Long, but heavy.

Yearning(how high is their sex drive?)

When he wants it- he NEEDS it. Like. He’s very dramatic and takes high offense to you withholding yourself from him. Its as annoying as it is flattering.

Zzz(how quickly they fall asleep after)

He’s knocked the FUCK out. Quickly. This man has fallen asleep with his softening cock still inside of you. He’s your big baby and once he’s drunk on your kisses hes a goner.

“Your pussy’s better than indica, baby” he tells you once, only half joking and you snort and hit him square in the face with the nearest pillow.

[hbyrde36]

Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

ao3 link

Chapter 1

*Eddie  - 1986*

“That was amazing, Eddie!” Will exclaimed, with a wide smile.

They’d been playing for over 10 hours and Eddie was exhausted. He was only a few years older than the other boys, so he knew it was a poor excuse, but he was getting too old for these marathon sessions. Where he felt dead on his feet, the other boys looked like they could go for another 10 hours, no sweat.

It was well past curfew for the younger boys but since it was Saturday, and spring break, it hadn’t taken much convincing to get all the kids' parents to agree to the late session, as long as Eddie got them all home safe. 

The small group said goodnight to Mike and Mrs. Wheeler before walking Lucas next door to his house. Then, Eddie, Dustin, and Will piled into the van. Technically Dustin’s house was closer but Eddie drove Will home first. He liked to drop his cousin off last, so he could stop in and say hello to his aunt if she was home. 

Eddie was a little distracted during the drive. He’d been trying to keep busy for the last few days, anything to help him forget about the fact that it’s the anniversary of Steve Harrington’s disappearance, but today that had been impossible. How could he not think about the guy who inspired one of the main characters in a game they had just spent all day playing?

When it's finally just him and Dustin in the car, he allows some of his thoughts to spill over. 

“It’s one thing that we use ourselves in this crazy story but do you ever think it’s fucked up that we kept Steve as an NPC after his disappearance?”

Dustin shrugged. “I don’t know, I mean, I didn’t know the guy. Mike always said he was an asshole, so, who cares?”

Eddie almost slammed on the breaks, it’s only for the sake of his beloved van that he didn’t. He can’t believe the kid would say something so insensitive.

“Dude he’s like your best friend, how can you say that!?”

“In the game, Eddie. He’s my character’s best friend, in the game . You always take it too seriously.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them when Eddie didn’t respond, too upset and lost in his thoughts to make conversation. He pulled his van into the driveway behind his Aunt Claudia’s car and shut the ignition off. 

“Mike was wrong, y’know. Steve wasn’t an asshole, not really.” Eddie said, as he followed his cousin up the path to the front porch.

Dustin stopped abruptly, turning on his heel to look at Eddie. “Wait. Did you know him? Were you friends?”

Eddie sighed. His feelings about Steve Harrington had always been…complicated.

“I knew him my whole life. We were in the same grade till I got held back, and it’s a small town. We were never friends, exactly, but I saw him almost every day in school. We talked sometimes in the halls, on the bus. Maybe he was a bit of a dick to people occasionally, but who isn’t? That’s what kids do. He was always nice to me.”

Dustin stared at Eddie like he’d never seen him before.

“I'm sorry, man.” He stuttered. “I didn't know. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

It was Eddie’s turn to shrug. “I don’t really know. I guess I was trying to keep the real Steve and the game Steve separate in my head. I always thought he’d turn back up eventually. That maybe he’d just run away from home, and someday he would come back when he ran out of money or something.

“It could still be that. It's not like they ever found a body.” Dustin offered, not really sounding like he believed it, but wanting to be supportive.

“It’s been 2 years, almost to the day. The Harrington’s have more than enough money to hire fancy private detectives and shit. If he was alive, they’d have found him by now.”

*Steve - 1983*

Steve Harrington had just started dating Nancy Wheeler when Will Byers went missing. Later, he would be embarrassed to admit it, but at the time he was a little pissed off that she wanted to ditch their date to join in the search for the boy. The kid was probably just out playing and lost track of time or something. Everyone knew Joyce wasn’t exactly the most stable person in the world. He knew Hopper only humored her with this search to get her off his back. 

When he told Nancy as much, she called him an asshole and stormed out. After sulking about it for an hour after she left, he realized she was right. He didn’t want to be that guy. He didn’t want to turn out like his dad. So, he threw some sneakers on and set out to join the search party. 

He walked through the woods looking for Hopper, or anyone else who could assign him an area to search. It started raining before he could find anyone, and he was just getting ready to head back to his car, when he heard rustling in the bushes off to his left. He turned in the direction of the sound, squinting in the dark to try and see if someone was there. He thought he saw movement and then a twig snapped. It sounded loud in the quiet of the trees.

It was so dark out here, he wished he had a flashlight or something. 

“Will?” Steve asked, taking a tentative step forward.

The only response was a quiet gasp from the dark. There was definitely someone there.

In a stroke of pure luck, the moon chose that moment to come out from behind the clouds. Her soft light illuminated things just enough for Steve to make out the shape of a small child with a shaved head, wearing a gigantic yellow t-shirt. This was definitely not Will Byers, but the kid sure did look like she was in trouble. 

“Hey there, I'm Steve. Do you need some help?”

The girl stared up at him with wide eyes. She didn’t answer, but she hadn’t run away from him yet either.

He tried again.

“Do you want to get out of the rain? My car isn’t far from here.” He didn’t step any closer but held his hand out to her to take, or not, whatever she chose.

The girl studied him for a long time. She looked into his eyes like she was trying to read his soul. He didn’t know what she saw there, but it must have been enough to convince her that he was safe. She nodded, pushing her tiny hand into his, and the two of them walked together back to the warmth and safety of Steve’s car. 

-

It wasn’t ideal, bringing the girl back to his house, but at least his parents were out of town. Once he’d gotten her into the car he had tried to take her to the hospital, or at least the police station. She’d shaken her head slowly, ominously, and uttered the first words he’d heard her speak. 

“Bad men.”

Steve didn’t know what to do, he was in way over his head. He needed help. He needed people much smarter than him to tell him what to do. The idea occurred to him to take her to Nancy’s. She was smart, and a girl. Surely she'd be better suited for this, she’d know the best course of action to take. But, the girl refused that too. She seemed to only trust Steve.

Tired, and out of options, he went home. 

He gathered some dry clothes for her, old sweatpants and a Hawkins High swim team t-shirt from his freshman year, and sent her into one of the guestrooms to change. The clothes would be huge on her but it’s the best he could do for now. 

It was late and he kind of expected her to just go to bed once she changed. They could always figure things out in the morning. But, a few minutes later, there she was, standing in his doorway, looking around the room curiously.

“It’s okay, you can come in.” He said, as he shut the closet door. “In fact, why don’t you come sit down. I think we should talk about some things.”

She looked hesitant, but joined him, cross-legged on the floor. She still hadn’t said more than those two words to him but clearly she could speak, and she understood him fine, so he had to try. They’d start small.

“What’s your name?” He asked, voice gentle as he could make it.

She shook her head. 

Somehow he knew it wasn’t a refusal, but more like a confusion on her part. 

He pointed to himself. “Steve. People call me Steve. What do people call you?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line and held her shaking wrist out to him.

He was confused at first, until he noticed the small writing there.

011

“Eleven?” He asked.

She nodded vigorously, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

That was, well, it was so not good. Shaved head and a number tattooed on her arm. Steve wasn’t a genius but even he knew that something was seriously messed up here. Who would do this to a little girl? Where were her parents?

“Is that what your parents call you?”

“Parents?” She sounded the word out slowly like she was saying it for the first time.

“Yea, like your mom or dad? Mama or Papa?”

“Papa" She agreed, nodding. "Bad man.”

O..k. Well that certainly answered some things.

“Is that why you were in the woods tonight? Were you running from Papa and the bad men?”

She nodded. 

That was enough for tonight, he decided. They were both tired and he really needed some time to think, to make a plan.

“I think we should get some sleep. We can talk some more in the morning. Okay?”

She blinked at him and nodded again. She definitely preferred non-verbal communication. It didn’t bother Steve, he could roll with it. 

“You can sleep in that other room, the bed in there is really comfy.” He said, rising up off the floor as she did the same.

“Where do you sleep?” She asked.

It was a little jarring, hearing her string together a full sentence like that. It was stilted, the way she spoke. Obviously talking wasn’t something she did very much.

“Here.” He answered, motioning to his bed. “This is my room. So i’ll be right across the hall if you need anything.”

She looked over her shoulder at the doorway and then back at Steve. She made no motion to leave.

“Would you rather stay here?” He guessed and there was that little smile again.

“Safer in here, with you.”

Steve’s heart broke. He kind of hadn’t thought about it until that moment, the night had been so full of weird things and it had all happened so fast, he hadn’t realized how utterly terrified Eleven was. He wanted to fold her up into his arms and squeeze her tight. Promise her that he’d keep her safe from the bad men of the world.

But he couldn't do that. He couldn't promise anything when he had no idea what was going on. He wasn’t sure if she would welcome his embrace either, so he held himself back. Instead he got into bed, scooching all the way over to the wall, and then patted the big space he’d left for her. 

She crawled onto the bed and almost immediately curled into a ball. He watched her as she settled on the pillow. She looked so small. He vowed to himself that he would do whatever he could to protect her. He’d hide her in this house forever if that’s what it took. He didn’t yet know what she’d been through, but he knew it was bad, and something no little kid should have to go through.

The rain had turned into a storm while they talked, and it raged now on the other side of his window. A loud crack of thunder startled them both. Eleven was shaking again. Steve laid his hand out, palm up, on the bed between them. An offering of comfort he thought she might accept, since she had taken his hand in the woods.

She hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand on top of his.

Chapter 2

[ageofbajabule]

Dear Patience | Part Two

Jake x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Smut, alcohol consumption, mirror kink, angst, fingering (f! receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up!), slight cockwarming.

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Continues where part one is left off.

Author’s Note: Hey!! So I’m hoping you are all enjoying the series so far. I’m trying to and hopefully can. Would like to try and release a new chapter once a week. It’s unclear of how long this series will be, but just know I do have a vision for this series. It’s really hard to write sometimes because I get in my head and second guess my writing so that’s why it takes longer than I would like it too for when I post… So please, without further ado enjoy the second part. :)

Dear Patience Masterlist

General Masterlist

Apple Music Playlist

Spotify Playlist

“Y/N! Open the damn door!” Jake started slamming his fists on the door. “Go away!” You sat against the door, dropping your head in your hands as you cried. Why did I do that? Why did I even kiss him? Is he going to remember this? Am I even going to remember this?

“Fuck! Why won’t you come out…” Jake sighed in defeat. And then you heard him sit outside the door, “Y/N… Come on.” That’s when you unlocked the door, “Jake…” You move away from the door and are met to see Jake standing in the doorframe. “Why did you?” You put your hand over his mouth. “It was just a stupid thing. You’re not even gonna remember it. Neither will I. Just forget it.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“So you’re just gonna act like nothing happened then?” He scoffed, moving you away from him. “Jake, you honestly think I would have feelings for you. When all you do is treat me like shit.” You crossed your arms, “If you weren’t up Sam’s ass 24/7 I wouldn’t be.” He threw his hands up, “Don’t bring Sam into this. Sam has been my best friend since the 3rd grade. You have nobody to blame but yourself. I’ve never done anything to you to deserve this type of treatment.”

“Don’t think for a minute that I would want to even be with you. You’re just a waste of space…” Jake said in front of your face. You clenched your fist feeling your eyes water. A couple tears falling, “Wow. That was very cold of you… Low of you actually. No wonder a girl would never love you.” You wiped your tears and stormed out of the bathroom, bumping into Sam. “Oh shit, sorry.” You look up and meet Sam’s eyes. “Hey, what's going on?” He questioned you, “Oh nothing, just had an eyelash in my eye.” You giggled softly trying to pull it off. “Oh alright, I thought some guy was being a douche to my best friend.” He chuckled softly.

“Can we get out of here? I’m starving and would like some sleep.” You smiled at him, “Yeah. Let me grab Danny since he is sober and able to drive.” Next thing you know, you’re in the back of Danny’s car heading back to the apartment Danny and Sam shared. “Danny, can you please make your infamous pancakes?” You giggled in the backseat. “Yes I can, just promise me you won’t be blowing chunks tonight.” He laughed softly, turning on the stereo and playing a song from his playlist. It was a familiar tune. The Chain by Fleetwood Mac

You start singing the opening notes,

Listen to the wind blow

Watch the sun rise

Run in the shadows

Damn your love, damn your lies

Then Sam and Danny join in with you

And if you don’t love me now

You will never love me again

I can still hear you sayin’

You would never break the chain

After jamming out to the next few songs in the car you finally arrived at their apartment. “Sammy, can you carry me?” You stepped out of the vehicle, “Yeah. Come on.” He chuckled, picking you up walking into their apartment complex. Luckily they were on the first floor, so it made things easier. Danny unlocked the door letting Sam and yourself in first then he followed behind. “Thank you Sammy.” You smiled, dropping down and getting water from the fridge. Danny had started preparing the pancakes for the three of you.

“So, why did you want to rush out of there so quickly?” Sam poked at you, you shook your head. “Honestly I was just tired and hungry. Nothing more, nothing less.” You smiled at him, “You’re not lying are you?” He gave you a look. “No, I’m not lying Sam.” You smiled trying to convince him hoping it worked.

After some time Danny finished making pancakes calling you all to eat. In which you indulge in all of the food that you could. And finally deciding to lay on the couch. Danny had already cleaned the kitchen up and went to bed. Leaving you and Sam in the living room. “Sam?” “Yeah bug?” You giggled at the nickname, “Do you think it's wrong to have feelings for someone that practically hates you? Or tends to show no interest?” You sighed playing with your fingers. “I mean, I guess it depends. I feel it’s different for everyone. Personally, I don’t think it's entirely wrong. But do you really want to put your feelings on someone who might not remotely feel the same?” He looked over at you. “Yeah, I guess you’re right…”

“Listen, we’re both trashed. Don’t overthink it, just get some sleep bug.” He hugged you tightly before getting up. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight Sam.” You smiled and pulled the blanket over your body and drifted to sleep.

12:07pm

You heard your phone going off, waking you up. Checking your phone it was Sam letting you know he and Danny had to head to the studio to work on some music. You got up from the couch folding the blanket and setting it over the armrest. You decided since it was Saturday you had the day to catch up on some laundry and get ready for tonight’s festivities. Another party of course on the agenda. This time the party was at your friend Amelia’s house. You luckily lived in the apartment complex down the road from Sam and Danny, so you could walk home.

Once you arrived home, you decided to take a shower first. Then afterwards you started on your laundry and catching up on simple house chores turning your bluetooth speaker on to play music. “Hey Siri, play throwback playlist.” Within a minute your speaker was playing music. The first song being She’s Not Afraid by One Direction.

You were dancing around your apartment cleaning, jamming out to your favorite music.

She’s not afraid of all the attention!

She’s not afraid of running wild!

How come she’s so afraid of falling in love?

She’s not afraid of scary movies

She likes the way we kiss in the dark

But she’s so afraid of falling in love

Moments later your phone was going off. It was Amelia calling you.

“Hey!”

“Hey Y/N! What time are you heading over tonight?”

“I mean if you want me to, I can be over around 6 to finish getting ready.”

“Perfect! Everyone’s coming over around 7 or 8. And I invited the guys. Hope that’s not an issue?”

“No, that’s perfectly fine…”

In reality it wasn’t. It just means you would have to deal with Jake’s presence.

“Okay! Well I’ll see you in a couple hours babes!”

“See you then.”

After hanging up, you decided to text Sam to update him that you wouldn’t need a ride tonight to Amelia’s. Once your chores were done you decided to eat a quick meal then catch up on some of your assignments. You had been taking extra classes to hopefully graduate in the spring of 2020. But with taking the extra classes it was kicking you in the ass. What seemed like an hour, two hours had passed. Finally finishing your assignments, you decided to take a nap before heading out for another long evening.

5:40pm

You had woken up from your nap gathering your bag together to stay over at Amelia’s, and to get ready at her place.

“I’ll be over in like 15.” You messaged Amelia before finishing up grabbing your things and getting into your vehicle to head over. Parking your car in her driveway you get out and walk into her house.

“Amelia?” You yelled through the house as you entered. Then you heard footsteps from upstairs. “Y/N!! You’re here. Come upstairs I need help picking an outfit.” You giggled and followed behind her. “Is Jake going to be here tonight?” You were hoping that he wouldn’t be, but a part of you also wanted him to be there. “Yeah! I’m really hoping one of these outfits will make him notice me.” She responded to you biting her lip. You gave a fake smile, it stung. Hearing that come out of her mouth. “Yeah, this one should woo him over…” You pointed to a black short dress. “I knew it.” She giggled and went to change into it.

After Amelia had changed and done her makeup you decided to change into your red short dress that made your breasts pop out a little more than normal. Maybe in hopes to get some sort of attention. And did your makeup with a light glam look. You straightened your hair to make it easier for yourself. “How do you think I look?” You turned towards Amelia. “I think you look hot! Definitely gonna get Sam’s attention…” She giggled softly, you looked at her. “I’m sorry, what?” You snorted at the thought of you and Sam ever hooking up. “Sam… Come on Y/N… Do you not see how he looks at you?” She shook her head laughing softly.

“No… Because Sam and I would never be together, he's like a little big brother to me.” You were older than both Danny and Sam by a couple months. “Well, I don’t think he sees it that way.” She rubbed your shoulder. “Well, let's forget it. People are going to be showing up any minute, let’s be prepared.” You nodded and followed behind her downstairs.

Hours go by and the house is filled with bodies. You only knew a handful of people, where the rest it was all new faces. But you hadn’t seen the 4 usual faces just yet. ‘Where could they be?’ You thought to yourself, grabbing yourself another drink. The drinks were definitely hitting tonight, and you’ve only had about 4, but you didn’t care.

“Jake!” You heard Amelia squeal, making you turn your head. Behind Jake was the rest of the guys, they looked like they had hit another party before this one. You looked at Jake checking him out, watching him snake his arm around Amelia. You looked down, chugging your drink, before grabbing another. You had made eye contact with Jake as you were grabbing another, making you spill it a little. “Nice going.” He chuckled while walking past you with Amelia.

“Hey Y/N!” Sam came into the kitchen hugging you, with the other two behind him. “Hi guys.” You smiled softly to them. “Alright! What’s your drink of choice? Salty dogs? Margaritas? Or just beer?” You smiled, acting like a little bartender for the boys. “The usual.” They said in unison, grabbing them their drinks. “You guys have to catch up with me, I'm on my 5th one.” You giggled, preparing shots as well for all of you to take. “I think we can do that.” They all laughed taking their shot raising them to make a toast before drinking them.

“So what’s up with Amelia and Jake?” Danny asked you, you looked over at the two of them dancing in the living area. “Honestly not sure… Probably just another screw in Jake’s eyes. And Amelia is too dumb to see.” You snorted, “And she’s my friend… And she’s clueless to the type of guy he is.”

“I’m sure she’ll find out one way or another…” Danny bit his lip then took a sip of his drink. “Come on! Let’s go dance!” You smiled, pulling Danny’s arm out to dance. Sipping on your drink you danced like a goof with Danny. The song Memories came on by David Guetta, “Oh my god! Sam! Get your ass out here!” You giggled finishing the rest of your drink. Sam ran out, starting to dance with you and Danny.

All the crazy shit I did tonight

Those will be the best memories

I just wanna let it go for the night

That would be the best therapy

All the crazy shit I did tonight

Those will be the best memories

I just wanna let it go for the night

That would be the best therapy

You guys started jumping around giggling and laughing singing along. “Hey, hey!” You sang, “Yeah, yeah!” Danny and Sam chimed in. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.” You smiled hugging them both jumping around. You caught in the corner of your eye, Jake and Amelia were making out. Causing your blood to boil. Why am I feeling this way? It’s not like Jake is interested, he made it clear just last night.

“Hello, earth to Y/N!” Sam was snapping his fingers in front of your face, waking you from your daz. “Sorry, what was that?” You looked at him, “If you would stop drooling over my brother for a second and listen. You would’ve heard me.” He started to laugh, you smacked his arm softly. “I was not drooling over your brother. I would never.” You gave a look, “Okay, okay. Anyways, we have been working on the new album!” He smiled at you, “Oh Sam, that's amazing!!” You hugged him tightly.

“Yeah! You’re like one or the first I’ve told.” He smiled looking at you. “Well you guys have been writing for some time. So I figured it would happen sooner or later.” You smiled, “I’m gonna go use the ladies room. So excuse me for a bit.” You squeezed between him and Danny making your way upstairs, trying not to stumble on the way up.

While you were in the bathroom you heard giggling on the other side of the door. Probably Amelia and Jake. What the fuck do I do now? You were kind of stuck, but didn’t want to be in the bathroom forever.

Once you opened the door Jake came stumbling in. “Shit…” He muttered, “Oh great…” You rolled your eyes. “Well hey there darlin’.” He smirked, straightening himself out. “Don’t darlin’ me.” You tried to walk out but were stopped by him. “Woah, hold up now. Why are you in such a rush? I’m sure Sammy boy can wait.” He chuckled, you sucked on your teeth. “Aren’t you too busy sucking face with Amelia?” You snarled back.

“Sounds like someone is jealous.” He bit his lip, “What makes you think that?” You looked at him, “I’ve seen the looks you’ve been giving all night. Don’t play dumb.” He ran his hand down to your waist. “I think you’re confusing me for someone else.” You giggled trying to play dumb. “No… I saw the way you were looking at me.” He smirked, moving his hand up to your face forcing you to look at him. “So cut the shit.” You looked at him with doe eyes. “Oh Jakey… What does she have that I don’t?” You smirked under his grip.

“She ain’t got a thing on you.” He eyed you up and down, “May I?” He asked, moving his hand to your cheek. You nodded, “I need a verbal answer Y/N.” He looked at you, “Yes Jake.”

That’s when it happened, his lips crashed against yours. Moving in sync, you taste the liquor off his lips. But you didn’t care, you moved your hands around his neck pulling him closer to you. As he moved his hands down to your waist, he moved you into the bathroom kicking the door closed behind him. You smiled against his lips, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You moaned into his mouth starting to unbutton the rest of his shirt. He started to push your dress up. Suddenly he picked you up sitting you on the counter, kissing down your neck leaving a trail of marks. “J-jake…” You moaned out running your hands up to his hair tugging slightly. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear my name leaving your mouth like that…” He growled kissing your lips again as he ran over the core of your panties feeling how wet you already were.

“All for me?” He smirked rubbing his fingers against your panties, you nodded your head. “Ah, what did I say darlin?” “All for you Jake. Now please, just fuck me.” You moaned out, begging for more. “I just want to play with you a bit more, baby… Hold on.” He moved your panties to the side collecting your silk with his digits he licked them. “So sweet…” He smirked, and inserted two digits pumping them slowly into you. “F-fuck…” You cried out, gripping his arm. Jake kept pumping them into you, using his thumb to rub your clit.

Your head tilted back from the pleasure, you could feel your core tightening around his fingers. “Oh, Jake… I’m close.” “Come on baby, make a mess on my fingers.” He kissed your lips, pumping his fingers faster, curling them to bring you over the edge. And sure enough you came undone under his touch. He then removed his fingers making you open your mouth to suck on them, and which you follow. “Good girl.” He smirked, then removed his fingers from your mouth to bend you over the counter.

He was undoing the buckle to his pants, and moving them down to his thighs. He then pulled your panties off of you, throwing them god knows where. He ran his hard cock against your slit. “You ready?” “Yes.” You looked at him through the mirror. He smirked and slowly entered you, stretching you out inch by inch. Jake was relatively big, a moan escaped your lips once he was all the way in. “Keep going…” You bit your lip, and he listened to you. He started to pick up the pace holding onto your hips.

“Fuck.” He muttered out as he kept thrusting into you, you could see his hair falling in front of his face in the mirror. You moaned out again, reaching back to hold onto his arm. “Look at how pretty you are when I’m fucking you.” He smirked using his one hand to hold your face up to look at the two of you in the mirror. “Only for you Jake…” You bit your lip, “Only for me.” He grunted as his thrusts became slower and deeper.

“Oh right, t-there…” You cried out, reaching down to rub your clit. You were almost there again, and pretty sure he was almost there too. His thrusts became a little bit sloppier, “I want you cum Jake…” You looked back at him, he gripped your hips pressing his fingers into them. “Where at princess?” He kept thrusting into you, “Inside…”

He nodded his head as it tilted back, he kept thrusting into you. His last couple thrusts were hard and long bringing you over the edge, as you came he twitched and coated your walls. “Fuck…” He moaned out, he stayed in there for a moment before pulling out. Once he pulled out he grabbed a cloth running it under warm water to help clean you up then himself. You found your underwear putting them back on.

Jake was finishing pulling his pants up and buckling them. “You should exit first so it doesn’t look so suspicious.” He said sternly. There it was, asshole Jake.

“Oh so we’re just gonna act like none of this happened?” You questioned him, “What? Did you think you were gonna get a relationship out of this?” He laughed softly, “You’re a fucking dick.” You opened the door walking out slamming it shut. You walked into the kitchen grabbing a drink.

“Woah there! Looks like someone pissed you off.” Josh chuckled. “Yeah… Someone did piss me off.” You bit your lip pouring yourself a drink. “Let me guess… Jake?” He raised an eyebrow. “Ding, ding.” You huffed, “Just Jake being Jake.” You rolled your eyes, “As always…” Josh took a shot, then grabbed a beer. “Screw him, he just doesn’t know how great you are.”

You nodded your head sipping on your drink. “Honestly, I shouldn’t worry about him. Let’s just dance.” You smiled as Josh grabbed your hand to pull you to the floor to dance. If there was a way to piss Jake off, it was to piss him off by giving Josh all your attention.

“Sam told me you guys are working on the new album…” You smiled at Josh, “Yes! We are, it’s very exciting.” Josh smiled at you, sipping his beer. You started to dance with Josh, keeping an eye out for Jake. Josh danced with you, with his goofy little moves. Sharing laughs and jokes, you didn’t even notice that Jake had been watching you with Josh.

You then placed your hand on Josh’s arm as he placed his on your waist pulling you closer to him as the two of you continued to dance. You could see Jake tense up from where he was sitting, ignoring all those around him. You smirked and got closer to Josh, you could practically kiss him if you wanted. Next thing you know Josh kissed you. You were taken back by it, but then kissed him back.

‘What are you doing?’ ‘Are you nuts?’ Then you pulled away, “I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t.” Josh was hushed by you, “No. It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting that…” You blushed, you could see Jake was pissed. He stormed past the two of you almost knocking Josh over. “What the fuck Jake!” He yelled at him, “Don’t worry about it, I'm sure Amelia will handle him…” You giggled, “I’m gonna head out…” Josh said to you, “Oh… Okay.” You let go of him, “I’m sorry again…” He was flustered and walked out.

‘What the fuck is happening?’ You are confused with all these emotions. The twins? You can’t bring them all into your mess. How else could you try and avoid it, they talk all the time. Feel each other's emotions and everything. What if Jake tells Josh about you two? ‘Fuck!’ The only thing you knew you had to do at this moment was leave the party. It would be for your own good at this point…

[tatsumessy]

You took my heart, and gave it a home - {005}

Synopsis

you, rin and all the blue lock boys are classmates in your final year of high school. both of you have to work together on a project so thankfully yours good friend bachira was way too excited to give it to you, but who knew that would turn into everyone you know and love finding out your worst secret.

Pairing

Itoshi Rin x fem reader

TWs⚠️

physical abuse, mental abuse, sexual abuse, alcohol abuse

Taglist 💕

@shikamiru @babbymario @oppirate-blog @little-charlatan @vilarawaltn @miyuaditt @beidousbubz @saeswifeeee @heartstealer-law @sheeshizzy @justxiao @tsukishiro-yue2402

After taking your shower you dried yourself and made sure to check and see if the bruises were going away. The only one that could serve as a problem is the one on your collarbone. “Y/n!” You flinched hearing your father scream and bust your door open. “Yes?” He walked into the room and started yelling about some random shit and as you say there listening you looked down at your phone them back up at him. “Are you even listening to me?” He snatched your phone out of your hand and started going through it.

“Whose Rin Itoshi?” He asked not looking up from your phone as he continued to go through it. “A classmate. I’m going over to his place to finish a project we’re both working on together.” “Your not going anywhere.” You scoffed and before you could even say anything he back hand slapped you causing you to fall onto the floor and the towel you had on fell off. “I have to go, this project is thirty percent of my grade!”

“Do I look like I care? It’s not like your going to graduate anyways you fucking idiot.” Tears weld in your eyes as he continued to spew curses at you, grabbing your towel you were about to stand up but he stopped you. “You are not going to that boys place.” “IM EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD! I can do whatever the fuck I want!” You yelled back at him while standing up and fully covering yourself.

“I don’t care how old you are, you live under my roof which means you listen to what I say.” “You can’t blame me for moms death forever.” You fucked up. You should’ve never said that because the next thing that happened was he gripped the back of your hair and threw you on your bed. He ripped the towel off of your body and with one hand pressing your neck into the bed his other undid his belt pulling out his dick.

He forced himself inside of you aggressively and thrusted repeatedly, he pressed into your neck harder keeping you from screaming. Small whimpers fell from your mouth along with a continuous stream of tears and pleas for him to stop. “This is what ungrateful little bitches like you get.” He whispered in your ear before forcing himself on you even harder.

“F-fuck you…” you whimpered out and his hand came to slap you again but your fingernails clawed at his face and he screamed falling onto the ground. You quickly got up and grabbed a couple pairs of clothes and your phone to leave but before running out the room you kicked your father in his exposed dick. Throwing whatever clothes you had on you didn’t even have time to grab shoes as you ran down the stairs and out towards the bus stop.

You sat on the bench and pulled out your phone to call Rin. The phone rang for a few seconds until he picked up sounded a little annoyed. “Y/n im still at practi-” “Rin, can you please come pick me up. Please…” you let out a strained sob as he awkwardly agreed and said he’d be there in a few minutes. The whole time waiting you kept looking around making sure you were alone, when you looked down the street you saw Rin’s car coming.

“Y/n!” You turned seeing your father holding a towel up to his face while speed walking over to you. Standing up you grabbed the rest of your clothes and ran towards Rin’s car, he brake checked right there and unlocked the door. You opened the door and looked up noticing your father start to walk faster, “Drive Rin. Drive.” You shouted closing the door and he sped off without looking back.

~

“Are you ready?” “For?” Rin asked looking at you with curiosity, “the assignment, that’s what I came over here for.” You said putting a piece of hair behind your ear and looking at his notebook the was sprawled across his desk. “Did you and your father get into a fight?” He asked and you turned to face him in his rolling chair, “just a disagreement. After a couple days he’ll cool down.” You responded giving him one of those fake smiles you’d give your teachers and other adults.

“Okay. Where are you going to stay in those couple of days?” “At my moms place. My parents are divorced so I have a place to go don’t worry.” You laughed turning back towards the desk to look over the notes he had, “I’m not worried.” You didn’t know it but the light from his lamp was illuminating on your neck and he could see the bruises etched around your whole neck.

masterlist - next

[sam-loves-seb]

larry fucking seaver sounds like a hillarious fic to read and mama's boy gives off angsty vibes...at least for me

anyway I'd love to know more about them! I'm literally addicted to ur fics🤭

omg hi hello thank u for asking about my worksinthedocs post 💙 you're so sweet, i'm so glad you like my silly little stories

i'll tell you more about them under the cut

larry fucking seaver:

this one is a vignette style fic where it's just little scenes of mickey having to explain his life to larry and/or larry trying to help him in any way he can and mickey begrudgingly accepting it. like, it starts with larry driving mickey to the gallagher house after he gets released, and mickey has to explain to him that it's his boyfriend's house

(i'll give u a longer snippet of this one since i don't have much for the next one)

“So,” Larry pipes up just as some pop song on the car radio fades into a commercial. “It says here that…” He taps on the screen of his phone, reading something from where it sits in its little air vent clip on holder. “1955 South Trumbull is your address on file.” Larry glances over at Mickey. “Is that where we’re going today?” Larry fucking Seaver—of course he gets stuck with a goodie two shoes parole officer. Nothing could ever be easy, right? Mickey’s had parole officers before, most of them assholes, so he knows how to deal with the jerks, and the hard asses, and the fake tough guy routine he was expecting to get. Instead, he gets—whatever the fuck this guy is, and he doesn’t really know what to do with that. But that’s a thought for another time, because right now they’re passing under the L and turning into his old neighborhood, and the thought of going back to the house he was raised in makes his fucking skin crawl. “No. I don’t…” he trails off, the words dying on his tongue. He doesn’t want to go back, doesn’t want to face anyone or anything that might still be lingering between those walls, but he can’t say that. Not out loud, and definitely not to this walking pep talk of a parole officer he just met five minutes ago. “I don’t live there anymore.” “Not a problem, Mr. Milkovich—not a problem at all,” Larry reassures him, tapping his phone screen again after he comes to a stop at a red light. “I’ll just make a note in your file here… Okay! So—where to then?” Mickey hesitates. “North Wallace,” he says. “Take a left up here.” Larry lifts his hands from his phone with a small shrug, nodding to himself as he follows Mickey’s directions. “Okay.” They drive past Trumbull and Mickey doesn’t so much as turn his head to look down it. “Is this your house we’re heading to?” Larry asks, not skeptical, but… curious. Mickey sighs through his nose. “No.” “A relative?” Larry prompts, putting his blinker on and glancing over at Mickey again. “Or a friend, maybe?” And honestly, Mickey kind of hates this question, because this short answer would be yes—friend, lover, family, Ian’s been all of that to him and more for as long as Mickey can remember—but that’s not really the sort of answer Larry’s looking for, and Mickey doubts he could try and explain all that even if it was. He knows he never actually lived in the Gallagher house, not officially, not even technically, all those years ago, but right now that’s the only place Mickey wants to be. He doesn’t give two shits about the house, only cares about what’s inside—specifically, the tall redhead that still sleeps in the same twin-size bed he’s had since the fourth grade. Because the first thing most parolees do when they get out is go home, and, well—Ian Gallagher is the only real home that Mickey’s ever known. That’s a lot to reveal to a parole officer within the first hour of knowing him, Mickey thinks, but he figures he’s going to be seeing a lot of this guy, so he might as well be honest. Might as well get it all out in the open now. Mickey bites at the dry skin on his lip for a second before he finally says, “Boyfriend.” Larry doesn’t say anything. He blinks, then looks over at Mickey for a second too long. “It’s my boyfriend’s place,” Mickey says again, nails pressing into his palms as his hands curl into loose fists. “Well, his family’s. I guess.” For a moment it’s quiet, the only sounds coming from the steady flow of the air conditioning and some boyband singing on the radio. Mickey swallows. Larry taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “Huh,” Larry says mostly to himself. Then, a little louder, “Okay.” Mickey’s jaw visibly relaxes, and his shoulders drop a few inches as they pull onto North Wallace. The corner of Larry’s mouth quirks up into a grin. Mickey notices.

there's lots of other little scenes too (some i've written, some i haven't yet), like larry getting mickey the job at old army, mickey telling larry he and ian broke up--then telling him they're engaged, larry wanting to see pictures from the wedding, mickey and ian starting the weed security business and how that works with their parole, etc. etc.

but yeah. that's larry fucking seaver.

mama's boy:

this one is newer and still in an outline phase but it's not super angsty?? like it is, but it has a happy ending

it's basically a what if story, like what if: mickey's mom didn't die, she just left when they were kids. what if she's still out there somewhere, and sometime post-canon she's finally clean and sober and wondering about the kids she left behind all those years ago so she's slowly tracking them down one by one, and she shows up at apartment 218 one day to find a tall redhead answering the door that allegedly belongs to her son.

and mickey looks like he's seen a ghost, because he just assumed she fucked off and died somewhere outside of chicago, and that's why she never came back. but now she's here. in their apartment.

and she's telling him that his roommate seems nice and mickey's brain is still trying to process the fact that his mom is alive and sitting on his goddamn couch and she knows absolutely nothing about him.

so he tells her.

and it takes a while for mickey to loosen up around her, but ian is so excited for him, for both of them, because he knows what it's like to lose a mother--one that leaves--and as much as he hated monica, he loved her too, and he misses her more than he cares to admit

so he's not going to let his husband throw away a chance to have his mom in his life. not until he knows her a little bit first.

idk i just thought it was a neat idea, so. we'll see where i go with that one.

thanks for the ask! if anyone wants to know more about any of the fics in my worksinthedocs list, feel free to send me an ask 💙

[wistfulweaverwoman]

I Feel Fine

I’m not sure why I volunteered to ride with Gale on the drive to the lake house. It’s not like we’re actually friends. We talk, know stuff about each other. Used to be neighbors, back in elementary and middle school. His mom watched me and my little sister sometimes. I’m pretty sure he still thinks of me as a kid, even though he’s fucking my best-friend. Well, really, she’s my only friend.

They met at the bowling alley where the three of us, as well as what seems like most of the other teenagers in town, work. Boys have always liked Madge. Blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect tits. A regular beauty queen. Seriously. She hates it, but her mom was Miss Arkansas and insists that Madge follow in her footsteps, even if it’s just for the shit she can put on a college application. She always calls it a scholarship program, like she can live with herself if it’s for college. No one knows about the pageants; I’m sworn to secrecy. I don’t really know why, it’s not like the other cheerleaders are going to tease her like I do.

I’m not a cheerleader. I’m not anything.

I don’t realize I’ve been sleeping till the protesting brakes wail softly. I jerk upright, wiping the sticky side of my face with my forearm. The truck follows Madge’s white Jetta along the gravel road. Through the pale dust swirls I see the girls jammed in the back seat, their hair piled in messy knots on their heads, moving their arms in sync. They’re probably listening to some terrible pop song they’ve used in one of their routines. I bet they’re screaming the lyrics off key.

I contain a shudder; I kind of hate dramatic people. 

The anticipation starts to build as we begin to ascend the last hill. I’ve been coming here with Madge's family since we became friends back in second grade. Usually it’s just the family, her mom, and dad when he has time, and her younger brother, Brian. We’ve had a few slumber parties up here, but never any real “party” parties. There are three kegs in the bed of the truck, bottom shelf liquor that’s probably closer to rubbing alcohol than anything that’s fit for human consumption, spiked lemonade, cider, plus every flavor of wine cooler ever made. 

I’m not really sure who else is bothering to drive up for the weekend, but the whole senior class was invited. Which is kind of crazy, even if our school is pretty small. But it’s our graduation, our last big hurrah. Everyone was warned that the beds are first come, first serve and to bring a sleeping bag, just in case. The house is pretty big. Besides the master, already claimed by Madge and Gale, there's the attic bedroom, where Madge and I usually sleep, Brian's room, three guest rooms, and the bunk room. Plus, there’s a pullout couch in the boathouse.

I roll down the window, lean my head out, close my eyes, and just inhale. It’s not really too different from home, but I’ve always been happy here. The spicy pine hanging in the air smells how carefree used to feel. Without raising my lids I roll my eyes. Nostalgia is making me sappy, but I don’t bother forcing away my smile. 

Everyone climbs out groaning, and stretches. A series of car doors slam as the cluster of girls excitedly shoulder their burgeoning duffle bags. Gale grabs his, and several bags from the grocery store. I grab another two, along with my backpack. I didn’t really need to pack anything. I’ve got lots of stuff up here, but Madge made me buy a dress for the party. And she treated me to some stuff from Victoria Secret’s. Which was weird. 

I tried to just get some sweatpants with ‘pink’ on the butt. But she insisted that every “woman” needs at least one set of sexy underpants. I hate them. Not only are they not comfortable, but they seem to emphasize everything I hate about my body. My thighs look fatter, and my belly seems to ripple beneath the synthetic band. They even look bigger than my cotton briefs. And I feel like an imposter. Panties like these belong on someone beautiful, or at least someone who looks beautiful naked. 

I don’t cringe when I look in the mirror or anything, but, as Aunt Jo once said when she was drunk and trying to give me some sort of confidence boost, I’m basically the opposite of a “butter face”. It’s not the nicest thing to say to a distraught sixteen year old girl. I guess I found some comfort, since I laughed, though embarrassed and horrified, at her graphic description of some girl she supposedly knew in the Army that always had to suffer the humiliation of wearing a bag over her head or take it from the rear, or maybe in the rear? I never wanted to ask. 

Really, the whole thing sounded humiliating. Ever since then I’ve been suspicious of guys and their motives. I generally assume that the only reason a guy would be interested in me is to use me to get to know Madge (this has happened), or because they want to masturbate in me (this has not happened). The result is that I’m kind of mean to most guys my age. Not Gale, because, though he’s a bit of a douche, he’s decent enough. He listens to Rush, buys us booze, and doesn’t act like I’m a third wheel. I think he gets that really we’re the ones that let him tag along with us. But he actually knows Madge. As popular as Madge is, no one really knows her, other than us. When we were younger I was always side eyeing other girls. I probably came off as jealous, but really I’m just protective. 

Okay, so maybe I’ve always been a little suspicious. Madge tries to get me to hang out with some of her other friends, but she acts differently around them. I don’t think she even notices. Gale does. The few times we’ve all got together he’s gotten real quiet. His face seems relaxed, but I can tell he’s pissed, because I wear the same expression. He wouldn’t have come up for the party, except for the obvious promise of copious amounts of sex.

The gravel crunches under my flip flops as I follow the others across the driveway. The girls hustle through the front door to claim a preferred bunk. A squeal echoes down the hall with Gale’s rough chuckle, and then pounding footfalls disappear upstairs. A door slams from somewhere far away. I place the bags beside the others on the counter in the kitchen and put the perishables away.

Shit.

I forgot to bring my one piece swimsuit. Upstairs I only have a bikini from sophomore year, when I first started gaining weight, but wasn't actually the size I am now. I don’t care that it’s too small when it’s just me and Madge. I try not to get too athletic in it. If I so much as sneeze my boobs try to escape the top like a pair of unruly puppies. Leaping off the dock is out of the question when Brian is lurking around. I’m pretty sure he’s already had an eyeful. Ugh.

If I go change now I can at least get in a swim before anyone else arrives.

Throwing caution to the wind, I cannon ball off the dock, breasts be damned. I may joke that if I do jumping jacks that I’ll knock myself out, but they aren’t really that big. Still, it’s hard to keep them in my top while they're trying to float up to meet my chin. 

The water is freezing, but that’s how I like it. It’s a murky green brown, and I can barely see two feet in front of me when I swim down, reaching out with my fingers, exploring, only to shoot back up when I touch the slimy tangled bottom. I hate touching the bottom, but always seek it out, like I have to make sure it hasn't changed.

I float for a while, my hair undulating gently. The trees sway overhead. I forget why we’re here, who’s here. I forget a lot of things. I get lost in my memories, remembering joy, and the person I used to be, before my world was wrecked.  

A car door slams. Then another. 

Startled, I sink below the surface. I try to blow the water back out of my nose, but some of it is already burning at the back of my throat. Ungracefully I haul myself up onto the edge of the dock and realize I’ve left the towel on my bed. 

I breathe in slowly smelling sun baked wood, my cheek, naked belly, and palms are pressed against the gray weathered boards, almost hot enough to burn my skin. I consider my options, either rush through the house and risk showing my goods to god knows who, or… or go see if there’s a towel in the boathouse.

The gaggle of girls from Madge's car are straggling down from the house having changed into swimsuits. Not wanting to wait around till even more people show up I hop to my feet and speed walk toward the boat house, the skin where my thighs touch burning with the friction.

After retrieving the hide-a-key from under a fake rock I let myself in. It’s stuffy and warm, but not unpleasant. The boats are actually stored one level down. This upper area is really more of an entertaining space, with a sleeping nook in the rear. 

Probably no one’s been here since last summer. In the closet, on the top shelf, are a stack of towels and another of bed linens. If my mom had put them there they'd probably be threadbare and musty. Madge’s mom buys new towels every year and sticks dryer sheets in all the closets to keep them smelling nice. 

I’m contemplating how I’ll reach the top shelf when I hear a laugh. I freeze on tip-toe with my arm in the air.

“That’s right motherfucker!” says a boy from somewhere very near the door. “It’s mine, and I’ll fight anyone that tries to take it.” Someone yells something back, and the boy laughs, and I hear a thump and the door slams shut, probably using his foot. 

Fuck.

Without looking I know who’s here. Madge once suggested that I like him. “Like him” like him. He’s really nice, but I said I didn’t, because I don’t like anyone. But I’m not blind. He’s probably the hottest guy in school. 

He grunts, sounds like he’s shifting whatever he's carrying, and I turn as he stumbles into the room trying to tug his shirt off with one arm, the other clutching a sports bag. 

For half a second I consider hiding, he hasn’t seen me yet, but instead just turn back around and try desperately to grab a fucking unreachable towel. The dripping tips of my hair sway with my effort, tickling my lower back. His stuff thuds to the floor.

“Oh!” he gasps. “I’m sorry! Are you staying in here?”

I glance over my shoulder, wishing I was someone or somewhere else. He looks a little like a deer caught in the headlights, his eyes wide and staring.

“I’m just here for one of those,” I say, waving my hand in the general direction of the linens. 

He presses up beside me. His eyes dart toward my tits and linger a little too long. The heat coming off his bare skin is like a campfire and my skin actually prickles in response. He plucks a towel off the shelf, barely needing to reach up. 

I’m taken aback when he unfolds the thing and wraps it gently around my shoulders. Maybe it suddenly occurs to him how intimate the gesture is, or he catches the look on my face, but he takes a big step back and smacks his shoulder on the closet door. 

I tuck the towel firmly into place, glaring down, really feeling out of my depth.

Should I say something? Why the fuck haven't I left yet? Run, Bitch! Flee!

“So. Thanks for the towel!” I say, my voice pitching up. I sidestep him, shuffling back toward the exit. “See you later, Peeta!” 

I don’t look back, and manage to make it up to my room without being seen. Madge is waiting for me on the bed when I’ve finished showering. She’s already dressed, makeup and hair done like she’s dressing up like Taylor Swift for Halloween. She’s laid out my dress and the hateful butt gobbling “sexy” underpants, with matching bra, which smashes my boobs together into what basically looks like an ass crack. She looks gleeful to the point of maniacal. I glower, aiming my best “I hate you” at her, causing her to cackle. 

“You promised,” she says. I did promise, after she and Aunt Jo pressured me into agreeing. Madge retrieves one of many make up cases from under the bed, scraping the floor. The argument was that I didn't always need to be a bitch, that make-up is just another kind of armor. Whatever. It’s all bullshit. None of it would matter in the zombie apocalypse.

Madge sets my hair up in these giant curlers and then spends way too much time on applying my makeup so that it doesn’t look like I’m wearing any.

“So how many times since we got here?” I ask. I hate talking about it, but also have a morbid curiosity. Plus, who else am I going to ask? Not mom, or grams, even if they were still alive. Aunt Jo welcomes these types of inquiries, but I’ve found her explanations way too detailed.

“Four,” says Madge. “Now that I’m on the pill he doesn’t use condoms. It feels great for like, two minutes, then he’s done. Which is fine if we’re, you know, in the hot tub. But we’ve got a bed here and no parents.”

“Ew, the hot tub? Seriously?”

“Just once. Not as awesome as it sounds.”

“Sounds gross.”

“You think sex in general sounds gross.”

“It’s all the sharing of body fluids. Plus, I can’t really wrap my mind around how “good” it’s supposed to feel after you described the first time.”

“I told you, Mark just... went at it. I wasn’t exactly warmed up.”

“It hurt because you were cold?” I say in a mystified voice.

Madge leans back and squints at me.

“Pffft,” she says, realizing I’m teasing. “Asshole,” and smacks the back of my head with a pillow.

“Mark convinced you to have sex because it was junior prom. Not because he liked you. You cried the whole time. Why the fuck would I want that?”

Madge shrugs, and I can tell she’s struggling not to look superior. 

“It’s different, when you care about someone.”

“I think I’ll stick to climbing trees and building forts with Prim.”

“And that’s why I love you,” she says, and kisses the top of my head. “You’re more of a kid than Prim is.”

“She’s too excited to get it over with. We get a few years, and then we’re grown.”

 I pull the dress over my head and then Madge removes the curlers. I don't know why she’s being so careful, she has to know it’s going up in a ponytail sooner or later.

She scans the floor, and then looks at me accusingly.

“Where are your new sandals? The wedges?” she demands.

“Oh no. I must have forgotten them at home,” I say in a non-sad voice. “I guess I have to wear my flip flops.”

“If you didn't really want them, why did we spend two days shopping?”

I shrug. It seemed really important at the time. And then I remembered they're just shoes. 

“Will you try to have fun tonight? Really try?”

“Sure.” 

At some point, after going down stairs, we separate. I’m not going to follow her around the whole time; she takes her hostessing duties seriously, greeting everyone, chatting. She doesn’t realize she’s acting just like her mother. 

I have a beer. It’s thin and sour but the warm feeling in my belly somehow makes me feel like less of an outsider so it suddenly seems like a good idea to have a few more. I sit down with a group with my red plastic cup, trying to remember I'm wearing a skirt, assuming they’re playing a drinking game, and not really paying attention to what till the boy next to me leans over and kisses me sloppily on the mouth. I draw back in protest, wiping my lips with the back of my hand.

“What the fuck?” I say.

“It’s your turn Katniss.” 

I squint at the middle of the circle, and realize we’re playing fucking spin-the-bottle like a bunch of sixth graders. 

Whatever, I said I’d try. I give the empty Cuervo bottle a hard spin. Only then do I take the time to glance around the circle to see who I’m actually playing with. 

Weirdly, there are mostly girls. There’s Jessica Riley, Melissa Karkowski,  the Vargas twins, Jared Unibrow is next to me, Monique Jones, Gretchen Wilkinson, Richard Talks-to-tits across the way, and oh, great, Peeta Mellark a bit over to the right. 

Explains all the girls.

The bottle stops pointing at the girl beside Richard. He grins at me.

“Nope,” I say. “There’s only three dudes, if we played by the sixth grade rules you’d get like a million turns. I’m kissing her,” pointing at Jessica, who looks startled, and then weirdly smug. 

She jumps up a little eagerly, and is leaning over me before I can stand. She presses her lips against mine, and I’m surprised I don’t hate it. 

Jessica is back to the bottle and kissing some other girl before I can gather my bearings. I stop paying attention again, easy to do since I’m nursing another drink that seems to have appeared out of nowhere. A hand grasps my arm just above my elbow and pulls me to my feet. 

Peeta.

“Hey, you’ve been drinking,” he whispers. “Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” God he smells good, like some kind of spicy smelling body wash.

“I think so,” I whisper back, and wink. Am I… flirting? I've done that exactly never.

Peeta looks me in the eyes, searching for something. Should I smile? I cross my eyes instead. He throws his head back, laughing. The whole time he’s got his hands on my arms, like he’s afraid I’m going to tip over.

“Dude. She’s fine. Kiss her already.”

And he does. It’s gentle, he doesn’t mash his lips against mine. He brushes against them. His hand slides up my arm to the side of my head. It’s nice. I open my mouth, and instead of jack hammering my tongue with his he just kind of slides the tip in. I don’t want to stop, but this is just a game so I sit down. Peeta stumbles back to his spot.

“Katniss,” says Jared. “Spin it already.”

I glance at Peeta, he’s still watching me. Well everyone is; it’s my turn. I’m way too delighted when the bottle points to Peeta. I stand up carefully, trying to keep my knees together so I don’t flash everyone. Peeta’s just stepped up to me, has just clasped my elbow, when pervy Richard speaks up.

“No, no. You two already frenched. It’s seven minutes in heaven now. Into the closet.”

We both stare at him. I’m not sure what’s going through Peeta’s mind, but I’m both simultaneously intrigued and terrified. What goes on during these brief rendezvous? Do kids just feel each other up? Hand stuff? 

“Nope,” says Peeta. “Fuck that, I have a room.” He grabs my hand and pulls me out the backdoor, toward the boathouse. He walks right past it, though, and sits down at the edge of the dock, his legs dangling. He pats the rough wood beside him and I plop down.

“Sorry. I wasn't going to take you into that closet so Richard could get his rocks off thinking about me groping you.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Now he’s just going to think you brought me to your room to fuck or something.”

He cringes. “I didn't think of that.” He stands again, tottering a little, and offers me a hand up. “Let’s go back. Have you eaten?”

I shake my head and follow him carefully; the beer in my system seems to be messing with how far away the ground is from my feet.

A group of kids has gathered out on the large deck lit by hanging twinkle lights. Some kids are setting up their instruments off to one side. Playing music is always a family affair going back generations in our area. They start their first reel, fiddles and guitars and a mandolin twanging out into the night. Couples take their partner and begin clogging. 

It’s damn magical. 

I feel the pull to join, either the singers or dancers, but I keep walking. We edge around the deck and enter the kitchen. It’s already a mess, abandoned cups, spilled drinks, chip crumbs litter the floor. While I’m trying to figure out what to eat Peeta assembles an epic plate of nachos. I’m about to start my own plate when he indicates they're for the both of us. I’m too drunk to be annoyed that I have to share.

We  pass Richard and the rest of what’s left of the group. At least half of the girls have left, and I catch a few stink-eyes as we pass out of the room.  Some of these girls are as pretty as Madge, and clearly want him. Why is he still with me? The obvious answer is unclear. Does he pity me? I don’t need his pity. I do need a hairband because my hair is sticking to my sweaty neck. Peeta follows me to my room. He sets the plate on the desk by the window, but instead of eating looks around with interest.

Madge’s mom had the whole place professionally decorated about twelve years ago, it was even featured in a spread in Southern Living. This room is sweet, made for little girls. Above the white paneled walls is a wallpaper scattered with tiny blue cornflowers. The canopied bed, though huge, seems small compared to the size of the space. There are built-in cushioned window seats, shelves of books. There’s a rocking horse in one corner, and a huge dollhouse in the other. Instead of a closet there’s a wall of built-in cupboards and drawers. There’s an attached bathroom, complete with a shower and a seperate clawfoot tub. When we were small, and Madge and I weren’t outside swimming, we spent hours playing noisily, or reading quietly. I love it here.

Peeta steps into the bathroom, and pauses, gripping the edge of the door and staring at my swim suit hanging over the shower rod, drying. The door shuts with a thump, and I twist my hair up onto my head. The cool breeze hits my sweaty neck and goosebumps cover my skin for a moment. Peeta seems like he’s in the bathroom for a long time, but time doesn’t seem to be passing with it’s normal regularity, so maybe just a minute goes by.

“Want to go for a walk?” he says, stepping through the doorway. I nod.

We go back downstairs, leaving the nachos to wilt untouched, not remembering them till we’re three stories down. I grab a hotdog. For some reason it seems like a good idea to take a shot of whiskey. It burns going down and I gag on the aftertaste. For good measure I take another. Peeta silently hands me a red solo cup. I discover it’s just coke, and I take small sips while leading him down to one of the walking trails. 

It’s dark, but the moon is out, so there’s not too much stumbling. I take him to the hammock halfway around the lake and sit sideways to allow some room for him to perch beside me. Still, the sides of the hammock kind of force us toward each other and we awkwardly lean in the opposite direction. It dawns on me, in an abstract way, that this is a very romantic spot. I just want to show him one of my favorite spots on the property. I’m suddenly worried that he might think I’m trying to seduce him or something. 

I try to come up with something to say, or do, other than to flee again. I can’t. So I stare at the sky, looking for shooting stars. I pretend not to notice that Peeta’s watching me instead of the stars. Finally I give in and motion to the sky.

“Isn’t it pretty?”

“The prettiest I’ve seen.” He didn’t look at the sky. Is he... trying to get in my pants? 

“What?” I’m laughing, it’s so cheesy.

“You’re pretty” he says, shrugging and gives me a genuinely shy but sweet smile. I impulsively lean in, pressing my mouth onto his. We stop fighting the hammock and press into each other, our feet leave the ground, and the hammock swings us back and forth. 

After a while the good feelings merge into something else entirely. Though the hammock had mostly stilled a while ago, I feel like I’m spinning. I pull away to catch my breath, and struggle to get back on solid ground, sinking to my knees. But the sick feeling stays, and then grows. Peeta seems to have realized I’m not feeling so good because he got to his feet and is standing over me, trying to help me up. As soon as I’m standing I go down on all fours and crawl towards a bush. My hair is unbound again and I struggle to push it back over my shoulders, trying not to heave. I fail. I can’t keep the contents of my stomach in. First comes up the sweet coke, followed by the salty half chewed hotdog chunks with the acrid combination of booze and bile. 

Long after I’m empty I still dry heave, but eventually I come back to my senses. Peeta’s crouched beside me, holding my hair away from my face and rubbing my back in soothing circles. He hands me a crumpled napkin from his pocket, and I wipe my mouth while he hauls me to my feet. Taking my hand, he leads me back, promising a bottle of water from the boathouse. I mechanically follow. We stop at the door and stare at the sock that’s hanging on the knob. Peeta cracks opens the door, and I hear a strange slapping noise and low moans. I can’t figure out what I’m hearing, but Peeta quickly pulls the door closed blocking out the sounds, looking irritated.

I struggle against him, trying to get inside, managing to turn the knob.

“Peeta,” I hiss. “Someone sounds like they’re getting hurt in there, we need to help.” I ram my shoulder against his chest and my stomach rolls in protest.

“Trust me”, he whispers into my ear. “They don’t need your help.”

He quietly pulls the door shut and leads us back to the party. I must be pretty drunk still because one minute I’m right behind Peeta, and the next I’m in my room naked, standing on the hateful underpants. At least I’ve shut the door. I get a whiff of the nachos and fling the whole plate out the window like a frisbee. I’ve pulled on some boy shorts and an old tank top by the time Peeta enters with a few bottles of water and a bottle of pills. 

I dutifully take the medicine he offers and down the first bottle of water. Is he staring at me? Or is he just really drunk too? He opens his mouth, but I turn and stumble toward the toilet. It’s a weird sensation, throwing up the cold water. It comes up so fast that some shoots out my nose. Peeta is behind me again, trying to save my hair from the toilet. The feeling of wanting to crawl into a hole intensifies when I glance behind me and see that more than a little water has splashed onto his shirt and cargo shorts. He drops my hair and removes his shirt and rubs his front with the dry part. He loads up my toothbrush with toothpaste and hands it over. 

Legs shaking, I stand. I splash my face and rinse my mouth. Going slow to avoid activating my gag reflex I watch Peeta watching me. This feels way more intimate than kissing. Why is he still here? I try to analyze his motives, but my brain is mush. Clearly, as I’m puking like the possessed, he must realize nothing is going to happen between us. Right?

I lean over to spit, and through a mouthful of foam say “We’re not going to fuck.”

I’m not sure how I expected him to react, annoyed maybe, for putting in all the time but never getting very far. I glance up while I cup my hand under the water flowing from the faucet. He’s still staring at me, though his brows are drawn. He looks confused.

“That’s not- I never though that’s where this was headed, I just really like you. I always have” he says. 

What? Since when? No… I’m suspicious this is a last ditch effort to have graduation sex. But there are plenty of girls downstairs that’d be happy to oblige. 

His pocket buzzes and he steps back into the bedroom. I hear him groan. He’s staring at his phone with disgust. 

“What?” I ask, walking slowly into the room.

“Sometimes I wonder how Rye and I are even related,” he says, slipping the phone back into his pocket. Rye is his twin, but not identical, brother. Peeta’s the baby of the family by, like, 20 minutes. Rye is a known slut, so that’s probably who was in boathouse. I wouldn't be surprised if he sent Peeta a text bragging about it. My phone buzzes on the side table. One glance tells me that Rye actually sent a mass photo text. I toss the phone at the bed and point.

“Make it go away,” I say, swaying a little. He snatches it up.

“Sorry,” he says, looking down at the photos. 

“It’s fine,” I say, “It’s not like this is the first time Rye has sent me a dick pic.”

Peeta’s head snaps up. “WHAT!?” he says, loudly. Peeta’s always so mild, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him pissed. He chucks my phone down with enough force that it bounces off and thuds on the floor.

“Sorry! How does he even have your number?”

“We were lab partners sophomore year.”

“Oh, yeah. God, I was so bitter about that.” Was he? I did set the curve that year. Rye only got an “A” because of me.

I open my mouth to answer, but turn back for the toilet. I lay my arm across the seat so I can rest my head. Peeta sits on the edge of the tub and makes me take small sips of water in between the dry heaves. I’m so tired.

“Do you want to be alone now?” he says. I’m so overwhelmed with longing the back of my nose and throat burn.

“I want my mom,” I whisper, ashamed I’m crying. He reaches out and squeezes my arm.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” he asks quietly. I nod, snuffling. He leads me to bed, pulls the covers back, and then actually tucks me in. I’m out almost instantly.

Weak light glows through the window and my bladder is so full it’s actually painful. On my way to the toilet I see Peeta asleep on the floor with a pillow and a quilt. After pulling on some shorts and yanking the curtains closed I nudge him with my foot. He lifts his head and squints at me.

“You can lay on the bed, it’s big enough for us both.”

Then I fall back onto the mattress and pull the bedclothes over my head.

After an indeterminate amount of time passes I wake, a little too warm, but so comfortable that I don’t want to move. As I become more conscious I realize that Peeta has cupped his body behind mine and I have become the “little spoon”. At least I’m not being forked. I roll away to find a cool part of the sheet and fall asleep again.

When I wake again light pours in from the open window, a square of sunshine nearly reaches the bed. Didn’t I shut that? Madge is poking me excitedly, while Gale is leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. Peeta still sleeps next to me. Madge raises her eyebrows, makes a circle with her thumb and forefinger and passes the index finger from her other hand through, back and forth.  I shake my head rapidly and point at the door. I mouth “Get the fuck out,” to emphasis my point. Gale is shaking with the effort to not laugh out loud. I point again and she throws up her arms in surrender and tip toes out. 

I squirm, trying to get comfortable. I roll over. Finally I get up and shower. By the time I come out of the bathroom Peeta is gone, like he’d never been here at all.

[shadowdashinyumbreon]

Remember how I was talking about a ybc sitcom. Well I did a thing

Yuri: we should abandon the current US government ranking system in warrior cats don’t question me.

Fujisaki: just saying that Obamastar is way cooler than trumpstar. Also what the hell are kits then?

yuri: babies, duh.

toono: are you telling me kids are going to be apprentices for like 12 fucking years,,,,, that’s 24 times as long….

yuri: yes. 12 years. 1st grade to 12th grade, American education system. I’ve thought this through.

Shikatani: and what the heck is a medicine cat?

yuri: you guys really aren’t thinking this through huh it’s a fucking doctor you degenerate

Toono: wait, what are cats then????

yuri: ….they’re still cats what the fuck are you on.

kashima: do we actually hunt for food or do we go grocery shopping and call it hunting?

yuri: I said ranking not their lifestyle guys I’m going to fucking lose it.

Akemi: the fuck is a warrior cat????

yuri: somebody is going to die today and it’s sure as fuck is not going to be me!

Itome: would the time zones become clans or is it just randomly assigned?

Yuri: it’s the ranking system. The leader is the president. It’s one clan. We’re one clan cant you fucking hear I’m this close to bursting into tears.

Shikatani: ok but what about other countries? Would there be Americaclan and canadaclan and stuff?

Yuri: i Said US government system. You heard that, right? You listened to me say it? The US? Just America??

akemi: wait does that mean the president rules until someone else comes along and wrecks their shit?

yuri: I mean, yeah. Until that motherfucker dies he’s leader. That’s how wc works. Kill your leader, start a riot and shut the fuck up im so stressed.

kashima: I, for one, do not think trump should get nine lives.

yuri: well neither should tigerstar, but here we are

Fujisaki: isn’t this just a monarchy? Or dictatorship?

yuri: it’s the warrior cats ranking system thats what it is.

Toono, muttering: what are deputy’s then.

yuri: don’t try and hide that stupid fucking question from me! What do you think vice presidents are??

Itome: what would twolegs be considered?

yuri: this is just like the what would cats be question. We wouldn’t fucking use that term.

Shikatani: probably a dumb question but what would rouges and loners be.

yuri: rouges aren’t even part of the clan ranking system I don’t think I can take this much longer.

kashima: what about other government officials? Would they be warriors? Or would they just not exist l?

yuri: THEYRE WARRIORS. THEY DONT EXIST. I CANT TAKE THIS ANYMORE

Itome: wait, why the fuck is yuri talking about warrior cats?

Yuri:

yuri: I-

akemi: you managed to drive a prostitute insane! Congratulations!

yuri: did you just call me a fucking prostitute?

Tamura: of course yuri wants our society to be a furry tyrant. Are you fucking kidding me yuri? Ya let's have our leaders fight to get on top, that would create so much chaos and distrust because you never know who wants to rise up; you would never get anything done because you're constantly watching your back. Not even to mention of course the strongest cats would always win, that's like saying the politician with the most money should be able to buy themselves the position. Your I suggestion is stupid op not only because you brought up warrior cats but also you thought a fucking YA novel is a good baseis for gouvernement.

yuri: this is the funniest thing anyone could have added. I’ve never been more amused in my life…. Do you know how warrior cats works? Do you really just think they’re fighting for leadership? Your so angry about this silly little thought I had.

Yaguchi, walking into the room: okay what the FUCK is going on???

[ha-youwish]

This is not a vent post, it’s a book recommendation and self-analysis kinda. Please consider reading this, I won’t blame you if you don’t.

Last year around this time, my granddaddy passed away. Usually, online and in formal spaces I would call him my grandfather, but that’s not what I call him and I will not limit myself for this post.

Last year around this time I was beginning my second semester of college ever. I was not doing so well. My grades were low because my attendance was abysmal and my work outside the class was shit. However the previous semester I had taken a class that I was able to stick around for more than the rest.

This class was studying how different major religions and cultures coped with death and how they thought of the afterlife. I bought the books for that class with financial aid and never read them.

Just now I got done reading one of the books, When Bad Things Happen to Good People by Harold S. Kushner, never read it until I found it sitting around today.

It’s a relatively short book, under 200 pages, about how Kushner deals with the question “Why do bad things happen to good people?” from his place as a rabbi.

Now I don’t have any sort of relationship with god. i’m not strictly atheist or anything but i tend to believe in whatever religion people want me to believe in if they ask me to pray for them or a family member.

when grandaddy died, i had nothing to fall back on. granddaddy was extremely religious and generous, i am so incredibly grateful he was involved in my life and there for me. but people from his church said it was a part of god’s plan or that there was a reason he passed when he did and when i was in such a low state at college already.

i moved away to college and the landlord sold my home. i was in an unfamiliar uncomfortable place where the only place i felt fully comfortable was now completely inaccessible. my mom moved in with grandaddy and took care of him before he passed. it was tense. he was kind but old and stubborn and so is everyone else. the drain of taking care of someone can be worth it, but that doesnt mean its not there.

i was, and am, dealing with severe depression surrounded by other gloomy people who didnt make it much better. i never went to class and i had, and have, crushing guilt that i was wasting the time and money of my family.

and then granddaddy went to the hospital. and then he died. and its unfair.

all of it is unfair, and if it was a part of gods plan then hes fucking unfair too.

now, i have not necessarily moved on. my fingers shake still if i think about it too long. i dont even know if im going to post this because of how exposed and raw i feel. but its important to me that somehow in some way this gets expressed and that someone other than myself will read it.

your suffering was unfair, whether it was a lot or a little. the world is unfair. we all know it. i hope you know that you will never be able to look into the eyes of someone who has never known suffering, and i hope you can find some comfort in that connection.

this book is from the point of view from a religious man. it talks a lot about a god i dont believe in. but the way it talks about suffering and how it effects people makes it helpful for me to parse my own feelings and thoughts.

so feel free to replace god with whatever you want, with humanity and spirit and the universe and everything good. here are some quotes, alt text included:

- sometimes i convince myself that what i feel is nothing more than chemicals, that the regret i feel from not driving home the day before and visiting before he passed was just something my mind is doing.

i once stayed up late at grandaddys house after he passed and i was shoved right back into school like my life hadnt just gotten its shit rocked.

my mom was in her room asleep, but i really couldn’t take it anymore. we stayed up late just talking through how we felt after i had cried to her. and to be completely honest, hearing that she had regrets and wished for just a little more time fucking sucked. knowing the people around you are going through it sucks, even if it was to be expected

but we connected over that long early morning. we resolved almost nothing. i felt the same as i did before and granddaddys still dead and buried. but it was easier to go on after that.

another quote, a tldr if you don’t want to read the book but want to understand what he gets at, in the end of it all.

i dont think i can forgive other people for being unfair, not without effort. but i think i can forgive the universe because the unfairness is proof that people have choices. shit happens, you choose what to do after it.

for a lot of people, mourning and religion bring them the strength to move on, as he talks about in the book. things dont get better because of prayer that god will fix everything or the universe will set itself right again or you can escape through fantasy books to another world,

they get better because something gives us strength to get up again and keep moving. to kushner, thats god and people who came together to support him. to me, i dont know yet, i dont know if i’ve really started to pick up my life yet. but i think this book helped me start to see the bigger picture

[realcuntsofsuburbia]

I PRESENT TO YOU MONÍCA😼‼️SHES MY GTA ONLINE CHARACTER I MADE AND SHE SO FUCKIN FINE SOOOO I DREW HER AND I MAY WRITE FANFICS WITH HER AND READER CAUSE SHES A LESBO (masc obviously) 😍 THINGS ABOUT HER (under cut) (SH mentioned and a little nsfw if you squint)

1. She’s about 23! She dropped out of high school in 10th grade and started hustling along side her cousins (they influenced on her badly)

2. She was raised by her single mother since her father didn’t want anything to do with Monica so she was raised by her mom and was babysat by her grandmother, Anne-Mae

3. Tried smoking a cigarette once when she was 5, never again. Tried edibles when she turned 16

4. Had a 2 year relationship but it all ended when the girl she was dating, JoJo, started hooking up with her cousin in their bed. FOR 3 MONTHS WITHOUT HER KNOWING.

5. Went to the psych ward for addiction and depression

6. She’s pretty muscular like but scrawny (kinda like in a trevor way???)

7. She’s very clingy to her significant other and that kinda causes the relationship to end early :(

8. Was brought up in the hood but her mom moved up by Paleto Bay since her grandmother passed :/

9. Became cool with LD (even tho he still try to take his shot despite her liking pussy)

10. Loves west coast classic radio and the radio rebel radio!

11. Her style is like a grunge/midwest/street-like

12. She’s VERY possessive.

13. Use pet names for her significant other (baby, babydoll, love, princess, sweetheart, etc.)

14. Has a black challenger that she would give her life for since it was a gift from her mom!

15. Smokes weed when she’s sad, mad, horny, frustrated, happy, tired and so on…

16. Goes to the gym every now and then, has good metabolism

17. Once shot someone with her cousin when a run went south

18. The type of girlfriend to grip your thigh while she cruise around.

19. LOVES going to street racing

20. The fastest roller i know, she gets down, SHE DON’T PLAY

21. Has mini breakdowns in the middle of the nights most time

22. She smells like a musky, vanilla, wood scent

23. Doesn’t care to shave and dgaf if her partner doesn’t cause she know how it is

24. Goes in the woods shooting to calm down when she’s pissed or something

25. Has a tabby cat named TaTa

26. Has a crush on Thomas Hewitt (TCM) and Lisa Rose (Girl, Interrupted)

27. Goes on late night drives for fun and to get food cause of munchies!

28. Hella good at Mortal Kombat

29. She selfs isolate when she’s overwhelmed/overstimulated

30. Has a love and hate relationship with kids. (so real)

31. Obsessed with older women and psychotic people

32. Used to SH when she was just 10

33. Can beat the living shit outta someone

34. Shes always either cutting or dying her hair but she sticks with pixie cut

35. Obsessed with tittys and thighs (just like me😍)

36. Has a best friend, Antoinette, she had a crush on but she didn’t feel the same way :( (still friends though)

37. LOVES GOSSIP (“Oh my gosh, that long motorboat feet bitch still delusional over him?? Pathetic, honestly)

38. Super sassy😨

39. Her full name is: Moníca Marie Wilson

40. Rarely feminine

41. MANSPREADS 25/8

42. Has ‘fuck me’ eyes

43. She’s about 5’10

44. Has a rbf

45. Gives princess treatment

46. Gets disrespectful real quick if she’s disrespected

47. OBSESSED WITH TATTOOS and PIERCING (she has a tongue piercing despite not being able to have piercings on gta 😞)

48. Surprisingly a good cook

49. she’s the FASTEST pussyeater i know, she gets down, she DONT play 😭

50. Loves throwing slick shots

51. Makes fun of LD when he throws a BF (Bitch Fit)

[mangoposts]

OKAY im finally alone so TW for anyone reading this, i will be mentioning rape & knives/scars.

i'll try to make this short but the summer before i went into 10th grade, i had hung out w this guy and i really did just wanna hang out and go for a drive, but he thought i wanted to hook up. i definitely did not because i was a virgin and never done anything with a guy at all. he was a senior and a lot bigger than me and forced me into having sex w him, i kept saying no and stop and take me home but he just kept getting angrier and eventually held a knife to my like pubic bone? pelvis? just down there idk. so i caved. i hated every second and cried but i stopped fighting. i haven't had sex since then, im 20 years old now and i haven't even been fingered by a guy, never given or received head, and never given a handjob. and im honestly really embarrassed about it and wanna have sex with someone SO BADLY but im scared.

the main reason i'm scared isn't because i'm scared i'll be forced into it again, although that is absolutely in the back of my mind. i'm completely fine now and over the situation, but it does worry me that i could get overwhelmed and the guy im with wouldn't wanna stop. but my bigger fear which im 100x more embarrassed of, is what a guy is gonna think when he sees my pussy. now hear me out bc i know that sounds weird😭 but all throughout high school i always heard guys make comments about how ugly this girls pussy is or how gross this girls is and it terrified me. but now i'm even more scared because of what that guy did to me, he literally cut into my skin and left scars. what is a guy gonna think when he sees that? how am i supposed to explain all this? i just i have a lot of questions and concerns but i'm a fucking 20 year old "virgin" if i can even call myself that, i've technically had sex but i didn't want it so idk if i even count that as a body. i just have been panicking over this for forever and have no idea what to do, if you have any advice at all i'd really appreciate it so so much

- 🌙

Oh baby :-(. Im so sorry this happened to you. You were really young and you didn’t deserve that whatsoever, if you can feel it im giving you a hug thru the phone. Im so so so sorry and i hope that man is dead in a ditch somewhere 🤍

On the other hand, i promise you you have nothing to worry about at all. Im telling you rn and i know it sounds so corny and lame and everybody always says this but its true, the right person is not going to judge you for anything and im so Fr when i say that. Trust when i was in high school guys would say all kinda stupid shit like that about girls in the school and it never bothered me because i knew there was at least one person out there who wouldn’t care about anything other people would talk shit about, and i was right 🤷🏻‍♀️ There’s so many people out there who would find u beautiful the way u are and just because some guys in the past thought in that immature goofy ass way doesn’t mean every guy will you know what i mean?

Babe, my only advice for you is to stay the way you are, hang out w ur frennies and the right person is gon come trust. It’ll come when you aren’t looking for it or worrying about it, when you least expect it to be honest. What you went through was horrible and it might be the worlds way of saying you gotta give yourself time before exploring that area of your life yanno. There’s NOTHINGGG wrong with being a virgin at any age let alone 20. You’re still young and you have ur whole life ahead of you. Don’t worry about this, when it happens it’s gonna be fine you’ll see it

Thank you so much for trusting me to be vulnerable with, im sorry if im treating you too delicately im just speaking thru the soul rn 😭 And again im sorry this happened to you. Even if i dont know u i love u a lot and im proud of you for moving past the situation despite how hard it might’ve been

Also im sorry for taking awhile to get back to you, i just scrolled through my inbox and finally found this

[tabitha2]

I looked in the mirror and couldn’t believe it. I’m like seriously dumb blonde housewife. Wait, dumb ? And… wife ??? Oh. My. God. Like I’m too stupid to figure out what to do, with a brain like never passed 9th grade. Because duh. I’m like. Srsly. Sexy. Grades ? Being into girls ? Being young ? And in control ? Forget all that crap. It was never real and as I grew up, aged…

Stop, wait. I’m soooo confused. I had to take some selfies to believe my eyes. Omigawd I’m straight now ! I’m like this horny skanky mom who can’t stop herself scoring with the varsity quarterback. Even after my husband became the football coach. Husband ? Shit, I’m married ! With children who are some of them grown now. No matter what my mind thinks, or thinks it thinks, this is what my body does. Talk like a straight older woman, act like a mature mom. With my dried-up snatch that gets wet for all dick, and my obvious hard nips for any guy. I’m a pro nympho bimbo and it’s so much better as the MILF I was meant to be. Doing my eyes to hide the lines…

My eyes. Did they used to be that color ? They still are so damn pretty. Even with the wrinkles. Which don’t stop me from giving my cookies to all the hot senior boys— a new crop of young studs every year. It’s totally cool. I am what I see, and I gotta just like accept it. Putting on lipgloss as I back out of the driveway so I can give a super sweet smile to the well-hung dean of discipline. See how easy that is ? And how well it works ? It was genius to just accept my natural talent for getting fucked. Like a bimbo.

It’s like fucking is what I’m good for. And pleasing Men. And my face. My body. My… feelings ? I just love young cock ?! Sure I do. Before menopause it was older guys. But now. This must be the curse part they mentioned. I’m in heat and I gotta get laid. So ok. I got this. I know just what to do. I just do what I know. Use my God-given talent for taking what they put into me. Those teenage boys who are so eager, insistent, horny, and powerful.

Damn, I feel weird saying that, but it’s true. Every year I throw a big party, where I fuck the football team. And they nut in me. Just like always. Like I always have done since I was 16 or 14 or 12 or whatever. Who knows the father of any of my kids, really. I’m super in heat and I will do anything. Even fuck boring church-going Gladys and Joe next door, all the wrinkly couples who hook up when the brats are in bed. Yep, I’m the neighborhood piece all the pervs pound. It’s what us dumb girls do, so they like us, want us. You gotta please your Man. Your hubby. All the Men. I remember my mom telling me. Now look at me ! I have been doing this for more years than my kids have been alive. Using my body not my brain. Getting Men. The best ones. Every time I can. Sneaking around and having a blast. Think I’m so clever but everyone knows I’m a swinger.

I was like 25, now I’m going on 52. I used to be a cheerleader and I so support the team still. And I totally like guys ! Every one. Each and every fucking one. I support all the players, I boost all the events, I show up with a big smile and my tits as big as I can make them. And I drive the carpool. Gotta go get the kids. Gotta get my housewife bimbo butt over to pickup pronto. I play the game. From the sidelines. Behind closed doors. I can’t get caught being sexy, and I think I’m so good that I can get away with it. Gangbangs and all that shit…

What the actual fuck ? Shit. Sugar honey ice tea. This is, like, so no way. I gotta, like, fix it. The pride of the school in the form of muscles and manhood. Waiting on me. Throwing me on the bed or the bleachers or the ground or mmm yes. Now stop screwing around, drop a dress over that bikini, and get my ass down there. I know just what to do… uh huh. I’m so good at being an athletic supporter. Ever since I got pregnant and dropped out. And blew the principal to boot. He used to call me that nickname I had in class. Remember ? They all used to call me Highbeams. Stupid nipples that get me called stuff. It’s totally out of control but I let it run me. It’s not a curse, it’s a blessing. Just be it. Even as I hear myself sounding so silly. And know I never can. Never could. Never would, never will. Never. Never get out of this.

The demon was supposed to make me look like Megan Fox, not some dumb trashy skank of a small-chested suburb wife soccer mom past her prime who drives a bimbo box and had a ton of babies… but I don’t mind. I don’t have any mind to find it any. Might as well just fit in. It feels so good ! So right. And I have such school spirit ! I’ll just be as he made me. As I was born. As I will be. I’m a good dumb hot old wife for life until death do I part. Fuck yeah.

[itsbrea]

this is my first short story , let me know what you think . Thumbs up or thumbs down

The best friend . 🩵

You know what they say about best friends , “they do everything together” , in this case that’s what these best friends do literally let’s see how it all folds out in the short story best friend .

*************

Me and my best friend have been best friends since 9th grade year , I’ve never really looked at him nothing more than a friend , or like a homeboy that’s it that’s all but every since we graduated high school and got into college we became even more closer , he has a girlfriend but he always makes time for me literally every time. I have been here way longer so I completely understand , her name is Monica she isn’t much of my friend but she cool ! I don’t have no beef , except this one time she accused me of sleeping with Justin and yeah it’s like she was delusional about the whole thing but anyway yeah to make a long story short she found out we didn’t do anything and she apologized , which I didn’t give a fuck about because I don’t accept apologies when I know I didn’t do anything wrong . Let’s get into the time me and my best friend did actually have sex , and made me cum more than anybody I’ve ever fucked with .

So it was finals week and it was crunch time I hadn’t had much time to do anything , not even give my dog any attention , she was fucking tired of me I laughed to myself , I rolled out of bed and got ready for my classes today , I only got two classes thank god ! I hoped out of the shower and threw on a white fitted tee with just a little of my belly showing , some grey Nike leggings , my Air Force ones , and a light Grey fitted jacket . I threw my hair up in a pony tail , put on my hair store lip gloss the one that complimented my brown skin , and we will talk about my hair another time because even though it hangs to the middle of my back and a good grade I still don’t wanna deal with it ! I was supposed to be meeting up with Justin but I told him I was to busy and he wasn’t having that , so he told me we was gone talk later ! I hated when he did that cause I was always anxious all day long .

Classes ended right at 2:00 pm which made it even better because now I had the freedom to do whatever , I wanted to catch up on some errands I needed done but that could wait I needed to head to Justin before he had a heart attack. It’s like my best friend is super protective over me and sometimes in the back of my mind I think he likes me , but that’s reaching I took out my phone to FaceTime him so I could see where he exactly was because I hate driving to him and it’s always so much going on .

**************

J: wassup mamas

S: where are you ? Wanna meet up?

J: yeah matter fact meet me at my parents house

S: I’m alllll the way on the other side of town Justinnnnnn I said through my whining lips

J: Skylar I’m not asking you , I’m telling you , stop playing with me

He knew that slightly turned me on when he did and said stuff like that , he clenched his jaws and licked his lips , it’s like I would never cross that line with him but he was so fine these days ! I had to get these thoughts out my head because we are best friends I can’t be thinking about him like that .

S: ugh fine okay I’ll see you in a minute big head !

J: bet , aye you want something from the store

S: skittles and some Funyuns

J: onion breath ass girl , aite bet * clicks off *

I threw my phone in the cup holder and pulled out the lot I’m not sure why it’s so much traffic out but that’s really about to annoy me , see Justin’s parents live like 25 minutes from me and maybe like 30 minutes on a bad day so I wanted to get there before traffic started but shit looks like it beat me , after sitting for about 20 minutes which felt like an hour I finally sped towards Justin’s hoping there wasn’t a cop around because the way I’m driving is illegal I laughed out loud and parked my car, I checked myself before going in my 5’4 frame went well with my slim thick body , my boobs set nice I wear a 44c , and my ass you could see from a mile away I was always blessed with a nice body thanks to my mom . I headed towards Justin’s apartment and knocked on the door , he came to the door and smiled he pulled me in by my arm and closed the door . Justin was 6’2 , dark skin , long pretty curly hair , grills complimented his dark soft skin , nice beard , hard body , and voice so deep and smooth he could get any girl he wanted . He also has good hair because his dad is full Indian , Cherokee to be exact , his mom on the other hand was Jamaican beautiful soul , I love his mom . He had on a white tshirt , grey Nike shorts , Nike socks , and some white forces I’m sure , they weren’t on his feet but I’m sure that’s what completed his fit . His hair hung loosely over his shoulders and out of his face , he just looked so fucking good today like he dressed up nice just for me , I’m reaching again let me relax I’m all over the place

“Come here”, Justin said as he grabbed me by my waist he always grabbed me like this so it wasn’t uncomfortable for me at all , I actually loved when he pulled me close he smelled so good , I put my arms around his neck and he caressed my ass , yes he love feeling on my fat ass and most of the time I would let him , today he was making me horny “Justinnnn, stop” I said as I bit my lip from moaning , he picked me up and put me on the counter he looked up at me and grabbed my waist I tilted my body back a little and showed off my figure even more , he licked his lips at me like he wanted to eat me off the bone

S: why you looking at me like that ? I said as I laughed

J: because I fucking can , nigga where tf you been? MIA and shit , been to busy and shit you better make time for me sky damn

S: okay I promise best friend , Ive just been busy asf with homework and classes we can go do lunch or something tomorrow .

J: that’s a bet he said as he massaged the side of my neck

S: justinnnn , ssss stop , fuck . my eyes almost went to the back of my head

Justin was really acting weird like he wanted to fuck or something and he knew that wasn’t happening I’m use to his flirty ways but he knows if he wants to do anything he has to be single period I know what y’all thinking but isn’t he your best friend , yes I know we just got that bond . I tilted my head looking at him and scrunched my nose up “get away from me crazy” I said laughing as i hopped off the counter onto the floor , I took off running towards his room and ran in the closet he always wanna play and shit .

J: *out of breath* sky why you always wanna play man , skkkkkyyyyy

I jumped out & scared the living shit out of him it was soooo funny ! He picked me up and threw me on the bed , which kinda hurt “stop fucking playing with me skylar before I fuck you up in here” he said as he went towards the bathroom , his house was like one of those mansions you seen on a movie , super sweet space , and his bedroom was just as big , I got up and went behind him , “what did you want to talk about so bad” I said as I hopped on the counter beside him as he threw his hair up in a man bun , he adjusted his stance and turned towards me , “remember when we were at the party couple nights ago, and you was all up on Jarell?” I looked confused because what did that have anything to do with it , I shook my head yeah

***********

S: yeah so? Why you mentioning that ?

J: because tf you doing all up on him for grinding your shit all up on him

S: J ITS NOT THAT SERIOUS

J: aight imma let it go

Justin never gets mad about little shit like that , he’s obviously jealous because it’s one of his friends I apologized and laid across his bed , Justin was walking across the room and locked the door I looked over because what is he doing , he came back towards me & told me to take my leggings and panties off I gasped because he ain’t never told me nothing like that before , I got up and looked at him half crazy

S: excuse me? Lol

J: you heard what the fuck I said sky , he said as he stood over me

S: bu..buuuut what about Monica ?

J: I’m not worried about her right now , take them panties off before I do it for you

I stood up and slid my leggings and thongs down exposing my waxed vagina to him , he licked his lips and grabbed me by my waist and pulled me on top of him we switched positions now he was on top of me taking off my shirt leaving me in just my bra , he kissed on my neck and massaged my clit while he did it , I was in heaven because I never thought we would be doing this , “fuck Justinnnn” I said as I moaned out and tried to move his hand , “move your fucking hand , stop playing with me” he continued to massage my clit till I came , he kissed down my stomach which made my body jump something serious because his tongue and lips felt so fucking good ! His warm tongue flicked and sucked on my clit as my body shivered from the orgasm I knew was about to come , “ omg justinnnn , fuck I’m about to cum please” I said as I slid my pussy across his lips . “Mmhm , nut all on daddy tongue” he said as he kept flicking his tongue fuck I was Cummin all over him. He came up and tongue kissed me while his hand was around my neck , “pussy taste so fucking good, got damn and it’s fat and wet sheesh” Justin said as he bent me over and rubbed oil all on my fat ass , he smacked my ass so hard I think he was tryna get back at me for being buddy buddy with his home boy . “Ouah, that hurt” I made a face at him, he told me to shut the fuck up and don’t worry about it, he laid up against the headboard and stroked his big long chocolate dick I drooled over it faithfully. I bent over and took him in my mouth sucking the tip first circling my tongue around his tip till he shoves it in my throat I opened my mouth a little wider sliding my tongue up and down on his dick as I sucked even harder my mouth was just getting more wet. “Mmm, ssss come here bend that ass over right here mhm just like that mama” I got in my best from the back position and he slide his 8in dick in me , I gasped because it felt so good going in he was fucking me so good I started crying

J: yeah next time you’ll keep your hands to yourself right? Right? Stop playing with me sky

S: *whimpers* I’m sorrrrrrrry daddy, fuck fuck I will keep my hands to myself ouahhhh

J:fuck your sorry , fuck that sorry he said as he pushed my head into the pillow , yeah I’ll tear this pussy up every time you disobey me you hear me mmm, shit

S : omgggggg fuck im about to cum daddy please I said as I closed my eyes

He turned me over into missionary and scooted me to the edge of the bed , he rubbed my clit as he fucked me so good , he finally nutted on my pussy and walked to the bathroom

I laid there just stuck because he turned me every way but loose that was the best time I’ve ever had .

J: that’s my pussy if I want it to be he said as he came back behind me

S : it can be , you fucked me so good Justin wtf

J : I’m that nigga stop playing with me , it’s mine I ain asking mo

S: boooooy , I said laughing out loud I only laughed cause he was serious

So from that point on me and my best friend were more than just that , & we continued to pursue whatever we wanted , talk about being best friends .

[ryuzakemo128]

Stranger Things Prompts

Message me with a Prompt number and a character you want me to write for. I'll try doing longer ones for these Prompts.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

Masterlist

Sass

“I’m not doing this anymore, I’m done. If they want more from me, they can wait ten years.”

“Sure, I’m Satan’s second favorite love child sent to drive you insane.” 

"Stay Grumpy Sunbeam. You might live longer."

"Here I thought I was being dumb, turns out it was just you and I was still a grade A student the whole time."

"Bite me shortcake."

Angst

“If god doesn’t listen to me, what makes you so damn sure that Satan does?” 

“I’m done, I can’t do this anymore.”

"Oh my god, what have I done?"

“No matter how much you dress it up, it’s still the same problem. Just with several layers over the top of it.”

"My suggestion is that you leave me behind. I will only get you killed anyway if you stay with me." 

"When will it be enough?"

"Will I be helpful? Will I be pretty in my misery?" (In the tune of Whatever will be, will be Que sera)

Spooky

"By all means disappear into the darkness, not that I'm scared or anything."

"For the last time, stop doing that shit. Now's not the time to try out what does or doesn't scare me."

"I think that's a dead body, but I am not totally sure and I'm not totally sure I want to find out."

"I'm busy you little shits, I'm running from someone who wants to kill me right now. Maybe even not a someone and more of a giant face eating monster."

"By all means, take your sweet time and hopefully by the time you get here. I don't get eaten alive."

Marianna (oc centric)

"It'll depend on what you're planning to do the next day."

"I have nothing left to say to you."

"You mock me, you mock my suffering and you mock my way of life. Yet in turn I haven't done a damn thing to get this kind of ire. Yet I'm getting it anyway."

"My heart was hurting, but I always put you first. I always put you first. I was bleeding on the bathroom floor, so I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing. "

“I had hoped the possibility of never was still on the table. But I don’t think it is anymore. I’m the monster you run from Steve. I’m genetically enhanced, it’s weird I know and I know I should have told you guys sooner. But each time I tried to; you’ve been more concentrated on other things. I didn’t want to bring the mood down, so I never told you anything about it. If you look in the cupboard beneath television. You’ll find out for yourself what kind of monster I am, over” 

“These visions are a curse my friend, I know that now."

[h3adsh0t]

Hey, I’m making this post on this new account real quick because I think I really need some advice or something. Please try to read everything. If you have any advice or questions or comments to give me that may help me, even just a little bit, please dm me.

So, just for some background about me, I’m 16 years old and just got into my junior year. I live in Louisiana with my mom, stepdad, and half brother. Also, I’m a straight (bi curious) boy.

I don’t know why, but for the past year now I’ve been having a lot of really shitty suicidal thoughts and all that. I don’t know if I wanna go to any therapy or my parents or any friends about these thoughts though. Everyone I open up in front of anybody for any reason, I just start crying a lot. And I completely hate crying in front of anyone because I’m scared they’ll think I’m some scared or selfish pussy that can’t handle simple things or anything like that.

I’ve always been incredibly shy and introverted so I usually always worry about what basically anyone thinks of me. Anytime someone at school even glances at me, they look away and that makes me think that they think I’m ugly or look weird or something. Anytime I walk past someone in the halls and hear people laughing, I always think they’re laughing at me for either my hair looking shitty, me being a bit chubby, or something else.

I’ve never been popular in school. I feel like most people in my grade just kinda know who I am but don’t care enough to talk to. I’m just the guy they look at and say “oh it’s that guy”, and then move on. And I’m honestly fine with that. I’m fine with being the quiet kid who just wants to do his work and go home. The problem is that my school is filled to the brim with gangster-wannabe type kids who just never know when to leave people alone. And I never wanna tell them to go away or leave me be because I’m scared they’ll get mad and hit me or something or just give me dirty looks I guess. I genuinely feel like I can’t go anywhere in that damn place without getting harassed by a bunch of asshats.

I never really leave my house outside of school. I still need to learn to drive and I’m planning on applying at Subway soon for a first job. I spend most of my free time at home either binging YouTube, TV, Movies, Anime, Cartoons, playing video games, working out in the evenings, and a lot of sleeping.

I also think I might have a few undiagnosed mental disorders. Whenever I’m alone by myself, I just talk to myself. I constantly imagine myself in different scenarios and situations. It might be BPD but idk. I have a fuck ton of weird interests that most people are not into, especially around where I live.

I’m also really scared of my adult future. I want to eventually go to Full Sail Uni in Florida and become a successful screenwriter. A lot of my family calls me really creative so I think it’d be a good job for me, plus I just like making stories and writing in general. However, there’s a ton of more things I’m terrified of. I have no clue how things like taxes, insurance, business deals, applications, the DMV, bills, basically anything having to do with just being an adult scares me. I can do the basic shit like laundry, washing dishes, cleaning, sometimes cooking, etc. But everything else just scares me.

When it comes to friends and relationships, I think I have probably some of the worst trust issues on the planet. I’m constantly scared of going over to friends’ houses because I think they’ll judge me for something dumb, so I never really go over to any of them and I just stay home all day. I’m also incredibly scared of getting into any relationships with girls because these days, everytime I go on twitter, or Reddit, or TikTok, I feel like I’m seeing some new story about people cheating on each other and not being faithful. Or I’ll see another story about people dating someone as a joke, or a dare, or just to mess with them. It’s made me so terrified of dating out of fear that it’ll happen to me too, or I’ll say something bad or too weird and they’ll think I’m a freak and leave, or something will happen and they’ll have to move. And it sucks because I wanna be able to just hang out with my friends without stressing. I wanna be able to date something sweet and kind and caring and fun. I wanna be with someone that I can hold and take care of on their bad days. I want someone I can be weird with I guess. I just want people who I know won’t leave me.

I don’t know why I’m so damn anxious all the time. I don’t know why I’m stressed. I don’t know why I’m scared. I don’t know why I’m so shy. This is just kind of how I am.

I’m sorry for making this so long, I just really needed to get this all off of my chest and I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. If you have any questions or anything, please feel free to DM me at any time.

Love to all of you and I hope you have a good rest of your day. Or night.