Rachel

Best friend's dad Wesker. Normal people AU where Jake moves in with Wesker when his mom gets sick bc she needs professional, round the clock care and he's still a teenager (let's say they remained broken up after she found out about Jake and decided to keep him, but she told Wesker about the baby).

You befriend Jake at school immediately, easily getting through his bad boy persona and seeing him for the soft hearted sweetheart he really is. You don't ever meet Wesker properly during those last couple of years of high school, only seeing him from a distance sometimes if he picks Jake up from school for whatever reason or closes the door behind Jake when you meet up in front of his house to go do something together.

But during your first holiday break at university, Jake begs you to sleep over at his house because he misses you (he hasn't gone to uni yet bc he's a 'rebel' like that idk) and you can't say you also don't miss him as well. So you pack a bag to last you a few days and drive over to his house.

The breath gets knocked out of you when Wesker opens the door to let you in. It's the first time in ~2 years you've been close enough to him to see how hot he is. He's in his 50s, isn't he? How the hell does he look so good and why do you need to drink a gallon of water to wet your parched throat at the sight of him? Your entire body buzzes with energy and tension when that smooth voice asks, "You're Jake's friend, right? Pleasure to finally meet you, sweetheart. You can call me Albert."

You're pretty sure you'll be haunted by that 'sweetheart' until the end of times.

He doesn't bother you and Jake too much, busy with his own work - he works in a lab at a research facility on the edge of town but he also works from home when he doesn't need to go in person - but he makes sure you have everything you need. That night, he even cooks for the three of you. You're so nervous you can barely hold your fork properly and every time he addresses you directly you stammer and have to clear your throat to avoid your voice coming out squeaky. You go through glasses of water like you've never had it before.

Jake asks if you're alright once you retreat to his room, since you're definitely acting strange, and you just say that his dad's intimidating. Which isn't a lie but it's also so far from the truth it's laughable.

"Him? Intimidating?" Jake scoffs. He and Wesker don't get along well, but they don't hate each other either. They just don't understand each other, too similar in some ways yet too different in others. He's always resented him for not staying with his mom and raising him together, even if his mom told him that forced love is no love at all. "He's a nerd with lame humour and an annoying voice. Don't mind him. But tell me if he bothers you. I'll knock his teeth out."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, Jake," you reassure him gently, then change the subject by asking him about Sherry, the pretty, older college girl he met while working at the local movie theatre a couple of weeks ago.

The next day, you go down to the kitchen for a glass of water, barely awake, clad only in sleep shorts and a rumpled old tshirt - comfortable clothes but very tempting for a single man with depraved appetites like Wesker.

He clocked your attraction from the moment your eyes met at the door - he wasn't born yesterday. Usually, he would've ignored it until it went away, as it always does eventually, because he's been here with plenty of women before. Jake's teachers, Jake's mom's nurses, his own coworkers and underlings - take your pick. Age doesn't matter; young or old, they all get that gleam in their eyes when they see him and he's gotten used to it (ah, the burden of being hot amirite? So relatable /j).

But for once, he actually reciprocates. It's wrong - so wrong - but Wesker is not a man who concerns himself with morals and ethics. And it's not like he plans on acting on anything - you're probably one of those girls who talks a big talk but when it gets down to it, you chicken out at the prospect of being with a man old enough to be your father. Nothing wrong with looking, is there? And teasing you a little, just to watch you squirm.

So when you walk in the kitchen with eyes half crusted with sleep, digging for a glass in the cabinet above the sink, dressed like that, Wesker can't help himself. He gets out of his chair, abandoning his mug of coffee and lab reports on the table momentarily, and positions himself directly behind you as he effortlessly grabs a glass, fills it with water, and hands it over. One of his hands is propping him up on the edge of the counter, nearly brushing your exposed midriff, and he's standing so close to you his crotch is almost touching your ass. Almost.

He may not be pressing you into the sink, but you can still feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Thank you," you murmur, knocked off course by his unexpected proximity while still half asleep, and Wesker nods, brushing your hair away from your face as he steps aside.

"You should get more sleep. It's still early."

You nod wordlessly as you gulp down your water then positively run out of the kitchen and back to your bed in the guest bedroom. You don't get any more sleep, but you do have to furiously touch yourself because the sound of Wesker's voice and the teasing almost touch of his body are stamped into your brain and won't let you go.

Nothing happens during that break, but you're very relieved when you finally go home because your restraint was close to snapping like a rubber band.

You go back to uni, focus on your studies, try to ignore and push aside any thought of Jake's dad. You go to the occasional party because you're young and if you don't do it now, then when? You hook up with a couple of guys here and there but you don't do more than heavy petting over clothes, maybe a handjob and some sloppy fingering.

It leaves you disappointed and unsatisfied. None of these guys have what you're looking for. Your friends ask you what it is then, but you can't say. All you know is that they're wrong. Too tall - or not tall enough. Hair the wrong colour, eyes the wrong shade, their voice too macho deep or their sexy talk so lame it makes you cringe. Truthfully, you know what's wrong. They're not Wesker.

At night, you touch yourself, slowly exploring and imagining it's his fingers on your clit, his hot breath on your face instead of the fan cooling you off in the middle of May, those strong hands massaging your breasts and holding your waist, pushing you into the mattress while he fucks you nice and deep. You come so hard and so loudly you wake your roommate up and have to make up a fib about a spider crawling on your face while you were sleeping because you can't handle the mortification of admitting the truth. You don't know if she believes you.

You come home for summer break. Jake is finally going to go to college - the local one so he can be close to Sherry - so he's busy studying so he can be ready for the next time applications open up. You have a standing invitation at his house, free to join him whenever you want, and you do, simply lounging in his bed while he stays bent over his textbooks at his desk, staring at the ceiling and wondering what you're doing with your life.

You avoid Wesker as much as possible because you don't trust yourself around him now that you've realised the full magnitude of your attraction for him. He's curious about your distance but he's content to let you have it - again, he doesn't intend on acting on anything even if he still gives you appreciative glances from behind his glasses when you're not looking.

About two weeks into summer break, you and Jake go to a party, invitations courtesy of Sherry. Piers Nivans, one of Sherry's classmates, hits on you as soon as you get there and he catches sight of you. You flirt back because he's a cute boy and you need to get Jake's dad out of your head. And things go well, they seem to be going swimmingly in fact, until Piers suggests going upstairs and you physically recoil from the idea.

You don't know what excuses you make, how Piers reacts, none of it. All you know is that you text Jake that you're going home and then you start walking.

Wesker finds you walking aimlessly about an hour later when he's driving home from work. He stayed up too late again and seeing you looking so lost, walking alone this late at night, wasn't in his plans. He pulls over, slightly worried despite himself, and lowers the window to talk to you.

"What are you doing all alone, sweetheart? Where's Jake?"

You look up at him, startled, as if you hadn't noticed him, and blink back tears before you answer and say that he's probably still at the party, you don't know.

Wesker gets you in the passenger seat and manages to at least confirm you're not drunk, you're not high, you haven't been given anything against your will, and you're not currently dealing with the aftermath of some kind of assault. His worst fears are put to rest, at least.

He's still furious with Jake for letting you out of his sight, but that's a conversation he'll be having with his son later.

He debates taking you home - that's what he should do, anyway - but he takes you to his house instead. You don't protest.

He takes you inside and lays you down on the couch before disappearing into the kitchen and returning with a glass of water and a pack of wet wipes for your ruined makeup. You take both silently, gulping down the water before you wipe your face roughly.

"What happened then? Did you not have fun?" Wesker adds at long last, burning with curiosity and a small amount of concern still.

You shrug and fidget with your hands, all twisted up in your lap. You can't look at him when you speak.

"It was fine, I just... think I might be broken."

"How so?" he asks, leaning back against the dining table and crossing his arms across his chest in a way that makes his forearms stand out deliciously. Your eyes track their movement and how they flex before you lower your head back down shamefully.

Why can't you find Piers attractive in the same way? Or any of the other guys you met at uni? Why is it that this man does it for you?

"I met a boy. He's cute and he likes me. And I thought I liked him too."

"But you don't?"

You shake your head. "He invited me upstairs and I bolted. And it's not because he's a man, I already thought of that and tried things, uhm, at school. Got the same results," you explain, feeling embarrassed to say this and not even knowing why you do. He just... compels you to speak, to spill all of it out. Maybe if you confess and he rejects you, you can move on. "It's just that..."

Wesker leans forward, arms still crossed, eyes shielded by his glasses, as if hanging on by a thread as he listens to you.

"Yes?"

"He's not you," you admit shamefully, letting out a long breath as if a boulder has been taken off your chest.

Silence lingers for long enough that it makes your stomach twist. You can't look at him, too scared, too ashamed, and you start crying silently because you don't know what to do, don't know how to stop feeling this way, don't know how to not be the pathetic girl who's in love with her best friend's dad.

"Oh, sweetheart," Wesker coos and approaches you at long last. He takes your hand and tugs you forward until you're standing, then cups your face so very gently so he can wipe your tears away. "There's nothing wrong with you. I promise."

"But I-"

"No buts. Here, does this feel wrong?"

And then he kisses you. Right there in the living room, the light left on in the kitchen spilling inside to illuminate the dark room only barely, with your face damp with tears and his glasses bumping into your face. He kisses you in a way you've never been kissed before and you lose yourself in it, in the feeling of being held up and knowing that he won't let you fall, in the feeling of being consumed entirely.

When you pull away, breathless and dazed and feeling like your entire life has been changed by a simple kiss, Wesker is grinning at you as he takes his glasses off and you finally get a good look at those gorgeous blue eyes that are so similar to Jake's yet infinitely more captivating.

"Well?"

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself and remember the question he asked.

"It felt right," you admit in a whisper. "More than. It felt perfect."

"I can make it feel even better," he murmurs, eyes pinning you in place, trapped in their orbit, while his hand grips your hip and pulls you closer before sliding around your back and holding your ass. It makes you gasp, especially when you can feel the hard outline of his cock.

"Please," you breathe out, needing him even more now that you've gotten a taste, and Wesker doesn't waste any more time.

He takes you to his bedroom and he takes his time. He worships every piece of skin he reveals as he peels you out of your clothes, makes you squeal and cry out when he seals his mouth over your clit and sucks, when he laps at your wetness, when he finger fucks you until you soil his sheets. He patiently shows you how to suck his cock and fucks your mouth until your jaw aches. When he pulls you off his cock at long last, your face is a mess of drool and tears yet you still want more, swollen lips chasing after his shaft when he moves it away from you.

You don't tell him you're technically still a virgin, fearing he might lose interest in you, maybe? But he knows without you needing to say anything. So he's gentle as he enters you and gives you time to adjust, but once that's done? He fucks your brains out until you can't think, can't speak, can't do anything but cling to him and beg for more.

By the time he's done with you, you're covered in hickeys and finger shaped bruises, soiled by your own release and his cum, throat sore and thighs still shaking. You're perfect.

He cleans you up and tucks you into his side, all cozy and warm, while he runs a gentle hand over your bare arm.

He should feel guilty. A man his age ruining a pretty young thing like you this way? Depraved. Disgusting. Downright despicable. But Wesker only feels contentment and satisfaction. Filling you with his cock, making you sing for him so beautifully while you took everything he gave you without protest, hearing you beg for him to fuck you harder, fuck you rougher, to never stop - it felt better than most things he does these days. And why should he feel bad, anyway? He didn't force you, didn't trick you. You're a big girl, you can make your own decisions.

"Can we do this again?" you ask hoarsely after long enough that Wesker thought you'd fallen asleep.

"Right now? I think you need some rest first, sweetheart."

"No, not now," you huff, exasperated, and splay your open palm over his chest so you can feel his warmth and the heart beating beneath. "Just... In the future, I don't know. I don't want to go back to treating you like you're just Jake's dad and acting like I don't know exactly what your cock feels like in my mouth."

Wesker chuckles and puts a hand over yours, squeezing your fingers and tucking them into a fist over his heart while his other hand pulls you closer so he can leave a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Yes, we can do this again. Whenever you want."

"Okay. Thank you."

He doesn't say anything but he turns around so he's lying on his side and holding you as close as humanly possible, your head tucked under his chin and your hands trapped between your bodies.

It's not until later that you find out he never hooks up with women in the house. Or that he always gets dressed and leaves as soon as the sex is over. Or that he never hooks up with someone twice. And while he never says he loves you or that he wants something serious with you or any of the things he should probably communicate, you know.

"Joth. Buddy. Pal. You've gotta move. We have to go to the farmer's market today." You cajole, gently prodding the World Eater in the side.

He had completed the morning chores that you had asked him to do before you'd even gotten up for the morning, which was impressive, as you tended to wake up with the dawn, even in the summer. Currently Joth was flopped in the middle of the stream that ran through your property, letting the rushing water flow around and over his body.

He turns his head and whines at you, somehow managing to convey a pleading expression on his face, despite the fact that he had a helmet on and could not remove said helmet even if he wanted to, for reasons that you knew better than to dig into. He had originally been a foster that you'd taken in. He'd completed his mandatory three months socialization and had just... Refused to leave. He was helpful and attentive to both the crops and animals, and did not protest when you brought other fosters in.

Joth did not always get along with the fosters you brought in, but only because they were trying to cause problems or harm, and you had to admit... Having help in the form of a friendly astartes when dealing with more hostile fosters was very helpful. Not that you scared easily, and an elephant gun with tranquilizers worked really well on any kind of large creature, mysterious giant men - who were sometimes heavily mutated for reasons beyond your mortal comprehension (allegedly) included. "Too warm..."

"I know it's hot out, buddy. But we've got lots of fresh stuff to sell. I paid for the spot in the farmer's market, and I'm not going to let that money go to waste. It might even be a bit cooler in town." You tried to bargain, giving him a hopeful expression.

He chuffs at you and shakes his head "Doubt it. Want to be cool."

"Yeah, I want to be cool too, and I know that this heatwave has been sapping your energy too, but you did promise me you'd help me stock the farmer's market stall. Will you keep that promise to me, buddy?" You ask. You didn't want to pull the you're living on my property, do as I say card. In part because you knew full well that most astartes only tolerated that sort of ordering for so long and you'd... You'd come to see Joth as family and would rather not chase him off by being too demanding.

"... I did promise... Fine. I will help set up." Joth grumbles, still pouting "Will get the others to help too. Be faster."

"Thanks, bud. Do you know where they are? I haven't seem them so far this morning." You respond, smiling warmly up at Joth and giving him a grateful pat on the shoulder.

He heaves himself up and out of the stream with a low, wordless whine before answering "Binthe is in the field with the cows. Olistes is judging the goats." 

You laugh a little and take a couple of steps back, to give Joth the space he needs to get up and out of the stream. You also lean away as he shakes his body to get rid of most of the excess water dripping off of him. You can also see his tail wagging a little behind him. Joth pretended to be a lot grumpier than he actually was. That tail of his was a tell that he felt otherwise. You hadn't told him how you could read his moods so well. "I see. Well, if you could gather the two of them up and get them to help me load up the truck, I'd be grateful."

"They are already on the move." Joth answers after a moment of silence.

"Alright then." You respond with a nod.  He follows you over to the truck, where the Iron Warrior and the Thousand Son were bickering playfully with one another as they carefully packed the produce that was going to be sold at market today.

"-saying that it is perfectly fine if I place these here, and then put those on top of them." Binthe explains, waving his hands enthusiastically as he floated a box of zucchini onto the flatbed of the truck.

"And I am telling you that we need to account for the weight distribution of this vehicle. Given that it's front heavy, we should make sure that the weight is distributed so that the weight won't shift in transit and potentially cause our host to potentially lose control of the vehicle." Olistes growls back, scowling at him and moving the boxes already placed in the truck with his mechadendrites as he carefully carries the box of egg cartons "And you need to be mindful of what goes where. Those leafy greens you attempted to put on the bottom will get crushed by the squash you wanted to put on top of them." 

"Not if I placed a spell on the leafy greens to keep them in the condition they are in currently until the weight is removed from them." Binthe answered, shaking his head a little.

"You just told me that was a concentration spell, and that you need to stay within a certain radius of whatever you've put the spell on, or it will stop working. You're also new to A- Greetings. I am glad to see you, and brother Joth. If you would please help me keep this idiot from making a catastrophic mistake by being overconfident, I would be much obliged." Olistes huffed as he kept rearranging the containers. 

Binthe was switching the boxes around as fast as Olistes was "And I am telling you that I know what I am doing and have this under contr-oh no." He collapsed a moment later, and would have fallen to the dirt, had Joth not lunged to his side and scooped him up before he could fall all the way to the ground. The box that Binthe had been holding with his weird magic powers would have fallen with a loud thud, had Olistes not caught them with one of his mechanical limbs. 

"Idiot! Over-confident fool! What did I tell you about how magic is accessed here on Terra?!" Olistes scolded him, carefully putting the containers down and vaulting over the truck to  help Joth lower Binthe down to the ground safely. Despite his harsh words, you could tell that he was worried about the Thousand Son, and his harsh words were coming from a place of care and concern. You were helping him work on better ways to communicate his feelings and concerns. 

It was a slow process, but at least he wasn't swearing as much as he used to. You come over and offer Binthe "I've got a bottle of water, and some honey treats, I know that you using your magic causes you to burn through a lot of calories. The candy should help get you up onto your feet long enough for you to eat something more substantial."

The sorcerer ducks his head, a sheepish expression appearing on his face as he says "You have my thanks. I... I was warned that my powers would be less accessible on this world, and I... I hadn't quite believed them. I had thought that was a misrepresentation of the truth in order to keep me from casting as I normally would, because of... Because of something that had been decided by the ultimate authority on all matters related to such things from where I am from."

You wanted to ask mor questions, but you knew that it might get him into more trouble if he did answer your questions about just where all of these mysterious and heavily armored giant men came from. Of course you wanted to know, but you also knew that most of them did not want to talk about them - and considering that these armored giants could take out tanks and were more heavily armed than the average tank was as well... You were pretty sure that the answers to some of the questions if not most of them would haunt you in ways that you would likely regret.

"... That decision was later overturned. As long as you practice safely and don't overstrain yourself, you will still be able to practice your magics, so long as they aren't destructive or-" Joth switched to one of the languages that these giant mystery men spoke that you didn't. You were pretty sure that whatever he was saying, he did not want you to know. 

Magnanimously, you decided not to call him out on the language change, as there was a good chance that the higher ups of the astartes had made sure that humans such as yourself wouldn't learn of such things. Like the reason why every last Astartes you had ever worked with had some form of PTSD and were heavily traumatized. You were loading up the truck as Joth continued to talk in that language, Olistes assisting you with his metal limbs as he stubbornly fed Binthe honey treats and jerky whenever he opened his mouth - likely to argue or question whatever Joth was saying.

"Right, well that's the last of the produce packed up. I'm guessing that one of you is staying to make sure that Binthe here doesn't try to overexert his mysterious magical powers by tying to get the sheep to unionize again. Who's staying at the farm and who's coming with me to the farmer's market?" You prod, a teasing smile appearing on your face.

"I will go." Joth volunteers.

In the same moment, Olistes answers "I will stay and wrangle the fool."

Binthe whines "Do I get a choice in the matter? What if I want to help at the farmer's market?"

"No." Joth says, shaking his head.

"You can't sand yet, idiot. Besides, you're still refusing to be reasonable in regards to the Ultramarine who helps the baked goods seller on the stall next to our host's. The last thing that we need is you finding more ways to gather enemies, especially since you get more acerbic when you are tired." Olistes sniffs.

"You're calling me acerbic? What about you! You are the single most bitter person I've ever met! For example, not two days ago you-" Binthe protested. Before he could finish that sentence, Olistes shoved another piece of jerky in his mouth.

"Did I say that I wanted to go to the farmer's market and try to sell this delicious produce to affluent fools who couldn't recognize quality if it bit them in the ass? No! I am not one for customer service. I am aware of my temperament and nature." Olistes grumbled.