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monzabee · 5 days ago

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run for the hills – lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where fate decides to bring you back into Lewis’ life, making him question his belief in fate.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x rosberg!reader

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: cursing, crying, drinking and mentions of alcohol, mentions of brocedes (rip), kissing, unprotected sex (you shouldn’t be surprised at this point), oral (m receiving), hand kink, praise kink, minors dni!!

Request: “hey, Merry Christmas 🫶🏽 I was hoping I could request a Lewis smut fic where the reader is Nico Rosberg's sister (with a age gap of around 6-8 years with him and Lewis) and before 2016 they were just really close friends who just kissed once but chose to pretend it didn't happen. after years, they run into each other at a club or a party and they're pretty snappy at each other but there's a lot of tension too and they end up having sex where Lewis is really cocky and also the reader has a hand kink and praise kink? I'm so sorry if I made it too long, i love your writing <33” + “oooo please could i request something w lewis?! something gut wrenchingly angsty? sorry i don’t really have a plot in mind hhhh thank you heheh”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! HAPPY NEW YEAR, i started this fic last week and i honestly didn't think I'd finish it this quickly but here we are. don't let my words fool you, i got the request last christmas but if you know me then you know that i am not quick when it comes to working on requests (i'm working on this i promise), not that this fic is even remotely christmassy, but let’s just appreciate that it is supposed to be set during the holiday period lol. this was supposed to be a shorter one but here we are, lol, i'm not even surprised at my inability to keep things short at this point. i posted this fic and realised i forgot to copy and paste a big chunk of it so oh well. as always, feedback is appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Lewis decided he doesn’t like cold a long time ago. That’s why, being the ever-decisive person he is, he chooses to spend his winter vacationing in places like the Maldives or Bali. His decisiveness is an important part of him, given what he does for a living. When he is on the track, in his car, there is no room for hesitation – he needs to be able to make split-second decisions under intense pressure, what’s not to love about that? So, once he decided he’d rather spend his time off basking in the sun rather than freezing to death somewhere else, he never looked back. He enjoys spending his time off in someplace tropical with his family, or without his family; most of the times away from the prying eyes and camera lenses of the media.

But this time, it’s different – he's alone.

Or rather, he thought he would be alone. The villa he rented out for the duration of the month is isolated, just how he likes it. He wakes up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore right outside his windows, and the distant chirping of tropical birds to accompany him as he lounges on the large deck, overlooking the infinite expanse of blue. There are no spectators around to gauge his reaction, try to get him to speak out about his plans for the next year when he moves to Ferrari, or what he’s going to do when he eventually retires one day. He hasn’t seen anyone from the racing world for weeks, and it’s been a much-needed break. He’d usually love to spend Christmas with his family, the only time he would ever tolerate the cold being when he is with his family, but this year he just wanted to get away on his own.

There is no one around that expect anything from him. Just peace.

He’s not a hermit, of course, but he enjoys spending his time by himself mostly isolated from all the other guests of the touristic area he’s staying in. The chef that works at the villa is on call for when Lewis decides that he wants to stay in for the night, the housekeeping staff come every morning to clean up around the house, then promptly leave, providing Lewis with the privacy he so desperately needs. But other than that, and a few nights spent outside in a restaurant or a club? He is all alone, and he is not complaining about it. Another thing about Lewis Hamilton is that he doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in setting and achieving goals; after all, that’s what he’s done all his life. His success isn’t some cosmic coincidence. It’s years of sacrifice by his parents, relentless effort, and unwavering determination. So, when things happen that feel serendipitous, like running into someone from his past, he doesn’t chalk it up to destiny. He chalks it up to the sheer unpredictability of life.

And yet, as he steps out of the villa to head to a nearby beach club after dinner, he doesn’t expect to run into you, especially not after how the things ended last time, but there you are. His eyes find you at the bar with some guy next to you – he has to do a double take. Just to make sure, he tells himself. But no matter how many times his attention reverts to you, he knows it’s you. Of course, it’s you. Though he’s not a believer in fate or destiny, or whatever you might want to call it, there you are – dressed in a flowy linen dress. His first instinct is to ask the server to seat him somewhere else so that he wouldn’t have stare at you and your ‘date’ for the night. His grip on the glass in his hand tightens momentarily, and he exhales slowly, forcing himself to look away. This is not the moment, he tells himself. It’s not his business, not anymore. But still, his gaze drifts back to you. You’re laughing at something the guy says, your head tilted slightly as you sip from your drink. He can’t hear your laughter, no – but what a sound that would be to hear, he thinks for a moment.

He knows he shouldn’t care who you’re with or what you’re doing; it’s been years since the two of you shared anything beyond... well anything, really. But something about seeing you here, in this place he thought was his private retreat from the world, feels like a twist of fate – or the kind of cosmic joke he claims not to believe in. But his eyes watch you as you throw you head back in a laugh and he can practically hear the sound in his head, his mind taking him to years ago when he used to be one of the people who got to hear it first hand; when he joined your family on karting days, or when you celebrated with him when he won a race, or even back to that one time when him and Nico were trying to drive those unicycles and you kept doubling over in laughter when they fell down – something your brother did not appreciate, but Lewis couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face as he watched you from the ground.

Somethings never change, he thinks, as he notices the smallest of smiles that has crept its way onto his face, quickly disappearing the moment he catches himself. He knows it shouldn’t matter to him – let alone bother him. But old habits die hard, and the sight of your smile, that easy laugh, stirs something in him that feels like both longing and a pang of annoyance. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin. Back then, it was teasing remarks that somehow felt more genuine than any praise he received elsewhere. He catches himself glancing your way again, his jaw tightening when the guy beside you leans in a little too close. It’s irrational, this surge of jealousy that claws at his chest. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but that doesn’t stop it from burning through him. He looks down at his drink, willing himself to focus on anything but you. But memories have a way of sneaking up on him, unbidden. The days spent at karting tracks, the shared dinners with your family, the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, talking about everything and nothing at all. Back then, it was easy. Natural. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly, until you didn’t.

Just then, you glance over, your eyes scanning the room before they land on him. For a moment, everything stills. The laughter fades from your face, replaced by something unreadable. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition. His breath catches in his throat, and he curses himself for the way his chest tightens under your gaze. He watches as you excuse yourself, heading towards the restrooms, and he swears he has never gotten up so fast and walked so fast in his life. He doesn’t think, he just moves until he spots you in the hallway, queued behind some people waiting for the bathroom line. What kind of a club only has one bathroom? He thinks, but that’s not the point.

He clears his throat.

You turn, eyes widening in that familiar, guarded way. “Lewis.” Your lips open in shock as you glance behind him and then focus on him again, “Did- did you follow me here?”

“Were you on a date with that guy?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop himself, his voice colder than he expects.

You blink, taken aback by the question. “Excuse me?”

He stands there, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but that doesn’t stop the irritation from creeping up his spine. His gaze flickers to the bar behind him, where the guy you were with is still talking to the bartender, oblivious to what’s going on. “I asked if you were on a date,” he repeats, a little sharper this time as he emphasises the last word.

You raise an eyebrow, the surprise on your face melting into something more guarded, a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “What if I was?” You cross your arms, your eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just out enjoying my night. Ever think of that?”

He feels a rush of heat in his chest. “It’s not like I care,” he mutters, though it’s clear from the edge in his voice that he does. “Just curious.”

You scoff, your lips curling into a sarcastic smile. “Sure, Lewis.”

“So?” He inquires, “Are you? On a date with that guy, I mean.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “Are you serious right now?” you snap, your arms tightening across your chest. “You’re standing here, in the middle of a hallway, asking me about my love life? What is this, high school?”

Lewis feels the heat rise in his neck, irritation mixing with a sense of frustration he doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not asking for your life story, just... just an answer. Is it that hard?” His voice is tight, but he doesn’t back down.

You scoff again, your lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You really think you can just waltz back in and start demanding answers like we’re still... You know what? Yes, Lewis, I’m on a date.” You throw a glance over your shoulder at the guy still sitting at the bar. “We met on the beach at the hotel I’m staying at, and I thought I’d let him treat me to a dinner and a couple of drinks before I’d let him fuck me six ways to Sunday.” You roll your eyes at someone on the queue gasping at your choice of words. “Not that it’s any of your business. Are you happy now?”

Lewis’s hand grips your wrist, a little too tight, and without warning, he’s tugging you away from the bar, his jaw clenched. “Come on,” he mutters, his tone low and urgent, as he steers you towards the back exit. You’re caught off guard, stumbling to keep up with his forceful pace, your heart hammering in your chest.

“What the hell, Lewis? Let go of me!” you snap, yanking your arm free once you're outside in the chill night air. The chill hits you like a slap, the heat of the club’s atmosphere fading behind you as the door slams shut.

“Seriously?” he spits, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “You’re gonna play it like that?”

You take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what game you're playing at, but I’m not interested. What the hell was that back there? Dragging me out like I’m some kind of... of property?”

He glares at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re unbelievable.” His voice rises, sharp and cutting. “I ask you a simple question, and you throw that crap at me? What the hell did you think I was supposed to do? Just stand there and pretend like I didn’t care?”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Pretend like you don’t care? That’s rich coming from you. You don’t get to just waltz in, after all this time, and act like you can demand answers, Lewis. Like you have any right to know what’s going on in my life.”

“Your brother would be so disappointed in you right now.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the air between you two freezes. The breeze picks up, but the sudden silence makes the world feel too loud.

“You don’t get to talk about my brother,” you seethe, as Lewis's face hardens, his jaw tensing, but it’s the look in his eyes that hits hardest — it’s a mixture of hurt and fury, both so raw, you almost feel sorry for what you’ve just unleashed.

“What did you just say?” His voice is low, almost dangerously so, the words slipping through clenched teeth.

You swallow, but it doesn’t help the sharp edge in your voice. “You heard me. You don’t get to talk about him, you don’t get to fuck up my life and you don’t get to come back here acting like you still have any claim on me or my life.” You’re breathing heavily now, the anger and hurt mixing into a bitter cocktail that you can’t quite swallow – funnily enough, Lewis can smell the cocktail you had earlier. “You left. You made your choice, Lewis. And now you don’t get to barge back in and pretend like I owe you anything.”

Lewis stands in front of you, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight as he processes your words. He doesn’t know when the two of you got closer together, he can practically feel the anger radiating off you, “You think I don’t know that?” he spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know what I did?” His voice cracks slightly, the vulnerability slipping out before he can stop it. “I fucked up, alright? I fucked up more than you’ll ever understand. We all did – me, Nico, you.”

“You don’t get to make me feel guilty about this, Lewis. You don’t get to act like I’m the one who fucked everything up.” Your voice shakes, but you keep going, the words coming faster, more bitter. “You kissed me and called it an ‘accident’, a fluke. You fought with Nico every chance you got. I had to pick up the pieces on my own.”

Lewis flinches at your words, but his anger doesn’t dissipate—if anything, it only sharpens. His hands remain balled into fists at his sides, but there’s something else behind his eyes now, something raw, something almost desperate. “We wouldn’t have worked out,” he mutters, it’s something that he said to himself time and time again to convince himself of it, “I am– was your brother’s friend, you–”

“You were my friend, too!” You exclaim, your hands swatting at his arms, chest – anywhere you can reach. “You left me, as if I meant nothing to you! You stole my first kiss and shattered my life to pieces on the same day!” You manage to get in some good hits despite Lewis’ attempts to calm you down, and the lump in your throat makes it harder for you to continue talking, “Do you know how many times I wondered if you kissed me just to piss Nico off? Do you know how that feels?”

“What?” He asks, his voice low. Each hit, each accusation, it stings. But nothing hits harder than the raw emotion in your eyes – hurt, betrayal, and the weight of everything he left behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. “You think I kissed you to get at Nico?” he says finally, his voice quieter now but no less intense. There’s an edge of disbelief, of hurt, as if the idea itself cuts deeper than your accusations. “Do you really think so little of me?”

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, holding yourself together in the face of his raw honesty. “I don’t know what to think, Lewis. What was I supposed to think back then? You shut me out. You made me feel like it never happened – like I never happened.”

“You were twenty-three years old,” he points out, “our age difference–”

“Oh please,” you scoff, pushing at his chest one last time, “you’ve fucked girls younger than that.”

Lewis flinches at your words, as if they’ve struck a nerve he didn’t even know was exposed. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t get to throw that in my face,” he finally says, his voice low and clipped, tinged with a kind of frustration that feels different from before.

“Why?” You ask, head cocked to the side. “I can’t comment on you fucking other people, but you can question my actions because I want to fuck–”

“Say ‘fuck’ one more time and I swear I’ll–”

“—what, Lewis?” you snap, cutting him off before he can finish his threat. “You’ll what? Walk away again? Pretend this conversation never happened, just like you did last time?”

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tightening as he tries to rein in his emotions. “Don’t push me,” he warns, his voice low and taut, but there’s no real menace in it—only desperation.

“Oh, I’m pushing?” You laugh bitterly, throwing your hands up. “I’m the one pushing? You’re the one who showed up here, dredging up every memory I’ve spent years trying to bury. Don’t you dare put this on me, Lewis.”

“You think this is easy for me?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “You think I don’t hate myself for what I did? For what I didn’t do? I’ve lived with this every single day, and you—”

“Fuck you!” you shout, stepping closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck–”

His hands shoot up, grabbing your wrists – not harshly, but firmly enough to stop your movements. You don’t even fully register how quickly he pushes you against the wall, “You think I ran off and lived some perfect life?” he hisses, his face inches from yours as he inhales deeply. “You think I didn’t miss you every goddamn day? You think I didn’t lie awake at night, wishing I’d had the guts to ask you to stay?”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the rawness in his voice leaving you momentarily speechless. For a moment, the anger in his eyes softens, replaced by something else – something that feels far too close to the hope you’ve been trying to suppress. “Well... yeah.” You inwardly cringe how your voice sounds so weak, but Lewis tilts your chin back to make you look at him.

“Is that so?” He mumbles, thumb caressing your chin as his eyes hungrily take in how your chest moves with each deep breath your inhale and exhale.

Your breath hitches as his thumb lingers, his gaze dropping to your lips like he’s fighting every instinct to close the distance between you. “Lewis...” you start, but his name comes out softer than you intend, more of a plea than the warning you meant it to be.

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a softness to it, an undercurrent of vulnerability that sends your heart racing. “What do you want me to do, huh? Walk away again? Because I can’t. Not this time.”

You shake your head slightly, but his grip on your chin keeps you from fully looking away. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I don’t even know how to feel about you anymore.”

His eyes darken, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Then let me remind you,” he says, his voice a low rasp.

Your pulse quickens, every nerve in your body screaming at you to push him away – or pull him closer and he tension between you is suffocating. “Don’t,” you whisper, but your voice wavers, betraying the battle waging inside you.

“Don’t what?” he asks, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. “Don’t do this?” You don’t answer, your throat too tight, your mind too clouded with memories, anger, and something else you’re not ready to name. He waits, his breath mingling with yours, his patience stretching thin. “Say the word,” he whispers, his voice rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will let you go back and take him back to your room and do whatever you want.”

But you don’t say it. You can’t. Because as much as you hate him, as much as you want to scream at him, cry, and push him away... you also want this. Want him.

And Lewis knows it.

His hand releases your wrist, sliding down to your waist as his other hand stays on your chin, tilting your face toward him. The kiss that follows isn’t soft, isn’t sweet – it’s desperate, raw, and filled with years of unspoken words. It’s anger and longing, heartbreak, and desire, all crashing together in a way that steals your breath and sends your heart into overdrive. A softer kiss might have been what you wanted, but Lewis knows this is what you need. His body presses against yours, and your hands instinctively find his shoulders, clinging to him as if letting go would leave you falling apart. His lips are warm and insistent, the taste of him intoxicating. Every move, every touch, feels like he’s trying to make up for everything he never said, everything he left behind.

The kiss deepens, each second unravelling more of the carefully constructed armour you’ve built around your heart. His fingers grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as everything else feels like it’s spinning. You can feel the heat radiating off him with every press of his body against yours. Your mind screams at you to stop, to think, to pull away before you lose yourself completely – but your body betrays you. The years of hurt, anger, and confusion dissolve into the fire burning between you, ignited by a kiss that’s as much a battle as it is a surrender.

Lewis pulls back just enough to let you breathe, his lips still hovering close, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is hot against your skin, his voice low and rough when he finally speaks. “You still want to go back and fuck your little lover boy?”

“Who?” You mumble, breathless as a result of the kiss as your eyes become heavy with something you can’t quite describe.

Lewis smirks, a glint of triumph flashing in his dark eyes. "Exactly," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your waist in slow, deliberate circles. His confidence is maddening, but the heat between you makes it impossible to summon the indignation you’d usually feel.

You try to muster a response, something sharp and cutting to put him back in his place, but the way his gaze drops to your lips again makes the words dissolve before they even form. “Don’t do that,” you manage, though your voice lacks the conviction you intended.

“Do what?” he asks innocently, though the rasp in his tone betrays his intent.

“Act like this changes everything.”

His smirk falters, replaced by a seriousness that roots you in place. “It doesn’t change everything,” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “But it changes something. Doesn’t it?”

Your heart pounds against your ribs as his words sink in. You hate how easily he disarms you, how effortlessly he pulls you back into his orbit no matter how much you’ve tried to escape it. But deep down, you know he’s right. “I hate you,” you whisper, though even you can hear the weakness in your words.

“I know,” he replies, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “And I hate myself for making you feel that way.”

The sincerity in his voice cuts through the haze, making your chest tighten. But before you can think about it, you find yourself tugging on the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, pulling him closer to yourself as you mumble, “Kiss me again.”

Your hands, which moments ago were pushing him away, now find their way into his hair, pulling him closer, as if to anchor yourself in the storm he’s unleashed within you. Lewis doesn’t hold back. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, the wall at your back the only thing keeping you steady. The kiss deepens, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that borders on desperation, as though he’s afraid this moment might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. When the need for air becomes undeniable, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you are breathing heavily, the space between you charged with everything unsaid. “Tell me you didn’t feel that,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You can’t answer right away, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest it drowns out any coherent thought. But eventually, you manage to find your voice. “I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no conviction behind the words. They sound hollow, even to your own ears.

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, but the edge in your voice falters.

“I’m not,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. “I’m telling you what I see. And I see you... still here. Still looking at me like that.” His hand trails down to your hip, his touch light but grounding. “If you hated me, you would’ve walked away by now.”

You close your eyes, willing yourself to regain some semblance of control, but it’s impossible with him standing this close, his presence overwhelming. “This doesn’t change anything,” you say, though it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him.

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softer now. “But it’s a start.” You don’t say anything to agree or refute his statement, and after a brief pause, he straightens, fixies your dress and tries to fix your hair as well. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll take you back.”

“But, my bag,” you mutter, pushing out your lower lip in a pout when you realise your bag is on the floor. Lewis has to restrain himself when he sees your lips all puffed up because of him. Your voice is whiny, and he realises you’re slurring your words a little bit when you tug on his shirt, “I don’t wanna leave my bag here.”

Lewis looks at you for a moment, his expression softening as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin with the same tenderness he’s shown all night despite all your fighting. With a soft exhale, Lewis bends down to pick up your bag, holding it out to you with the same quiet care. “Don’t make that face,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but laced with something tender. “You really wanna go back to that room, after everything that just happened?”

You look at him, a mix of confusion and desire swirling inside you. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the honesty slipping out before you can stop it. The words feel raw, vulnerable, but there’s something about his presence, the way he’s here, still so close, that makes you feel safe enough to say it.

Lewis doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his eyes soften, his thumb grazing the strap of your bag as he watches you closely, as though he’s searching for something in your expression. Finally, he steps closer again, the space between you narrowing once more. “I get it,” he says quietly. “But I’m not letting you go home alone tonight.”

The words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, to push him away, but there’s something in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you now, that makes you second-guess everything you thought you wanted. You hesitate for a moment longer, the weight of your thoughts heavy in the air, but the pull between you is undeniable. It’s the kind of pull that’s magnetic, that doesn’t let you escape even when you try to resist.

Finally, you nod, the decision feeling both like a surrender and a choice you can’t take back. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “Take me back, then.”

You don’t even remember getting into his car, but you do remember the smug look he shot at your date – Carl, you think – when he helped you through the club with a firm hand on your back. The villa Lewis rented for his little getaway is entirely what you expect it to be – modern, grand, and secluded enough so no one uninvited would know he is there and bother him. The couch in the living room looks way too inviting and you make a mental note to avoid it for now. Sitting on it might make this whole situation feel too real, too comfortable, and you’re not ready for that. You glance around the space instead, taking in the clean lines of the modern furniture, the polished wood floors, and the sprawling windows that offer an unobstructed view of the moonlit ocean. You walk towards the windows, eyes taking in the view from inside the villa. The ocean stretches out endlessly before you, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. The soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faintly audible even through the glass, a gentle hum that seems to echo the turmoil in your chest.

You wrap your arms around yourself, partly to steady your nerves and partly to shield yourself from the vulnerability creeping up on you. The view is breathtaking, but it does little to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You faintly hear Lewis calling out your name, but as if you are in a trance, you can’t take your eyes off the view in front of you. His voice calls out to you again, softer this time, closer. “Hey,” he says, and you feel the warmth of his presence before you even see him. Lewis’s reflection appears in the glass, his dark eyes fixed on you as he stands just behind you.

You finally tear your gaze away from the ocean and turn to face him, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. “It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment.

Lewis nods, his expression unreadable as he follows your gaze back to the window. “It is,” he agrees, but there’s a weight to his tone, as if he’s not just talking about the view. His eyes flicker back to you, searching your face. “But it doesn’t seem like it’s helping much.”

You let out a shaky laugh, more to fill the silence than anything else. “It’s not that simple, Lewis.”

“Nothing ever is,” he replies, stepping closer until there’s only a breath of space between you. “But I’m here. You don’t have to deal with whatever this is alone.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into it. “I don’t know what to do with you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “With... us.”

He exhales deeply, his hand lifting as though he wants to touch you but hesitates. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he says, his voice steady. “I just want to make sure you’re okay tonight. That’s all that matters to me.”

Something about his words, his presence, eases the knot in your chest, if only slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” you murmur, more to yourself than him.

“Then don’t,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance. “Just be here. With me.”

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of pretense or ulterior motives, but all you see is the same man who’s managed to undo you with a single glance. “Show me your room.”

“We don’t have to do that.” His eyebrows furrow as he reaches for your cheek, “That not why I brought you here.”

“Isn’t it?” You try to joke, but his deep sigh is a sign of his disapproval. “I know that’s not why you brought me here, but it can be one of the reasons you brought me here.”

“Can it?” He drawls, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“For God’s sake, Lewis.” You sigh, turning your body towards the man standing next to you. “Do I need to beg you for you to fuck me?”

Lewis’s smirk falters, his expression shifting into something deeper, darker, but undeniably tender. “Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with restraint as he steps closer. His hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You don’t need to beg me for anything. Not now, not ever.”

The intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. “Then fuck me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with equal parts frustration and desire. “If you want me, show me.”

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s steadying himself, and when he opens them again, the resolve in his expression takes your breath away. “You think I don’t want you?” he asks, his tone low but firm. “You don’t know how hard it is to hold back, to stop myself from–” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as if even admitting it is too much. He reaches for one of your hands, freeing from your hold and places it on his crotch. “See what you do to me?”

The crude act manages to steal a gasp from you, your eyes widening at how hard he already is. “Lewis,” you mutter, he responds with an affirmative hum, “show me your bedroom.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm but careful, and leads you down a sleek hallway. The sound of your heels clicking against the polished wood floor echoes softly, a counterpoint to the pounding of your heart. When he pushes open the door to his bedroom, you’re momentarily distracted by how much the space reflects him. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft, ethereal light. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft light.

You walk towards the centre of the room, the corner of your lip trapped between your teeth as you glance at Lewis over your shoulder before you run towards the bed and throw yourself onto the soft bedding. Lewis watches you with an amused smirk as you sprawl across the bed, your carefree motion starkly contrasting the simmering tension in the air. “Comfortable, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing, but the heat in his eyes betrays his calm façade.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, giving him a challenging look. “Very.” Then you narrow your eyes at him, “But don’t call me baby, I am not your baby.”

He chuckles, low and throaty, as he steps closer, loosening the top button of his shirt with a deliberate slowness that sends a shiver down your spine. “No?” he muses, stopping at the edge of the bed. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if committing you to memory.

Your breath hitches when he leans over, placing a hand on either side of your body, effectively caging you in. His face is so close to yours now that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I like seeing you like this,” he admits, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Relaxed, it suits you.”

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, but you refuse to let him have the upper hand completely. Your fingers trail up his chest, over the defined planes of his torso, and then slide beneath the open collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you,” you reply, your voice soft but loaded with meaning.

His response is immediate. His lips crash against yours with a fervour that steals your breath, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you flush against him. The kiss is raw and consuming, years of tension and unspoken words pouring into the connection. When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged, he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

You smile, your hands slipping down to the waistband of his pants. “Why don’t you show me?”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifts you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carries you to the centre of the bed. He chuckles at the sound of your giggling, as he carefully lays you back down on the soft bed. His fingers work diligently to get you out of your dress, pulling the linen garment over your head as Lewis lets his eyes hungrily take you in. When your dress finally falls away, leaving you in nothing but lace and skin, Lewis takes a slow breath, his eyes scanning over your body with a mixture of awe and hunger. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, his touch sending shivers of desire through your body.

You arch slightly into his touch, your breath coming faster, and you meet his gaze with a challenge in your eyes. “Are you going to just gawk at me, or are you going to actually do something?”

He smirks, a flash of cockiness in his eyes. “Patience,” he teases, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in his voice as he lowers himself over you. With one hand bracing himself above you, his other hand slides down between your bodies, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His touch is slow, almost teasing, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his fingers inch closer to where you need him most. “You like this?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, his lips just inches from yours. His fingers find the lace of your underwear, his touch deliberate as he pulls it aside and slips a finger inside you, making you gasp. “You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, his lips crashing against yours as he deepens the kiss, his finger working inside you with a slow, steady rhythm. You can feel the heat building between you, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second.

“Don- don’t say ‘fuck’, Lewis,” you tease him with a small smirk as your breathing becomes deeper, “it’s unbecoming.”

“You’ll see who will be coming in a few minutes, baby.” He chuckles at the way your expression changes at the mention of the word, his fingers moving in deeper as your let out a disapproving moan, “What? You don’t like it when I call you that?”

With another dissenting hum and a raise of your hips to meet his hand, you let out a long exhale. “I’m not your baby Lewis, stop calling me that.” With the patience that only he can tolerate, he continues the leisurely movements of his fingers. “I want more, please.”

Lewis tuts at your words softly, chuckling as he takes in your reactions. “I think you have a very important decision to make here,” he murmurs, his eyes suddenly painted with something more serious, “because once I fuck you, I’m not letting you go.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” The words come out choppy as your breathing gets more erratic, his fingers stubbornly keeping to the slow rhythm he’s set.

Lewis's gaze sharpens, the challenge in your tone sparking a flame in his dark eyes. “Oh, you’ll see it, alright,” he murmurs, his voice a velvety promise as his hand withdraws briefly, leaving you breathless and aching. Before you can protest, he moves with deliberate precision, tugging his shirt over his head and revealing the expanse of his chest – sculpted, strong, and utterly captivating. “Get on your hands and knees.”

The command leaves no room for debate, his voice firm but laden with heat. Your heart skips a beat as you meet his gaze, a mixture of defiance and curiosity flickering in your expression. “Bold of you to assume I'll listen,” you quip, though the slight tremor in your voice betrays your anticipation.

Lewis smirks, leaning down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, you'll listen,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Because you know exactly how patient I can be, but the same can’t be said for you.”

A shiver runs through you at his words, and before you realize it, you’ve complied, shifting onto your hands and knees in the centre of the bed. You can practically feel his gaze on you, then all of a sudden, you can actually feel him behind you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he moves closer. “Good girl,” he says softly, his voice rich with approval, and the way your body reacts to the praise is almost embarrassing. “Oh, my beautiful darling.” His hands skim over your back, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your hips. The grip is firm, possessive, sending a thrill through you.

The sounds of him taking himself out of his trousers and pumping cock in his hand is pure debauchery, yet you find yourself pushing your hips back against his thighs. Lewis's low chuckle reverberates through you, a sound full of confidence and desire. His hand tightens on your hips, steadying you as he leans in, his chest brushing against your back. The heat of his skin against yours makes you arch into him instinctively, earning another throaty laugh from him. “You're eager,” he teases, his voice dark and dripping with amusement. “I like you like this.”

You bite your lip to suppress the needy sound threatening to escape, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Maybe you're just slow,” you retort breathlessly, glancing back at him over your shoulder, a challenging look in your eyes.

Lewis growls low in his throat, his hands sliding across your back. “Careful,” he warns, though there's a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Push me too far, and I won't be nice.” Your breath catches at his words, but before you can form a response, you feel him guiding himself to your entrance, teasingly dragging against you. The deliberate slowness makes your frustration peak, and you push your hips back, a wordless plea for him to stop teasing.

“Patience, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise. But even as he says it, he shifts forward, entering you with a deliberate motion that steals the breath from your lungs.

The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight as he holds still for a moment, letting you adjust. “Lewis,” you breathe, your voice shaky with need.

His hands gently caress over the skin of your back and hips, soothing over the sharp feeling of Lewis easing himself into you in small movements of his hips. “You’re doing so well,” he shushes your whiny moans, his hands tracing your sides, grounding you. “You feel perfect, we’re almost there, darling.”

“A-almost?” Your voice cuts his words off, voice shaky with need, “It’s not going to fit, Lewis, I can’t-”

He leans over you, his lips pressing tender kisses along your spine, each one sending a ripple of warmth through you. His voice is a soothing murmur in your ear. “Relax for me, darling. Let me take care of you.” Your breathing steadies under his touch, the initial sting giving way to a fullness that leaves you breathless as he pushes himself fully into you. You arch your back slightly, pressing into him as his hands continue their gentle exploration of your body. The tenderness in his actions contrasts with the raw desire in his voice, creating a heady mix that leaves you yearning for more. “That's it,” he praises, his tone soft but laced with heat. “You’re incredible. See? We made it fit.”

“I feel so full.” You manage to let out, voice whiny as the moan is ripped from the back of your throat. “It feels so good, Lewis.”

He begins to move, a slow, steady rhythm that builds gradually, allowing you to feel every inch of him. The friction ignites a fire within you, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips, each sound spurring him on. His grip on your hips tightens, his pace increasing as he finds the perfect rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You feel so good,” he groans, his voice low and thick with desire. His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair as he pulls you back slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re mine, you know that? Only mine.”

The moan that comes from you is dissenting, causing Lewis to slide his hand down your throat to use the leverage to pull you up on your knees, pressed against his chest. “No,” you say, hands extending backwards to keep holding onto him in an attempt to keep up with the rhythm in which he is fucking you now.

His words send a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone igniting something primal within you. “Say it,” he commands, his voice rough as his movements grow more urgent. “Say you're mine.”

Your breaths are shallow, punctuated by soft whimpers as you cling to him, trying to keep pace with his movements. The way he pulls you against him, his hand firm on your throat, sends a jolt of heat through your core. His hand is firm around your throat, but not uncomfortable to the point that you can’t breathe.

“I’m not yours,” you gasp defiantly, your voice trembling with every move he makes.

Lewis growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back as his hand tightens slightly around your neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place. “We’ll see about that,” he says darkly.

His hips snap against you harder now, his rhythm relentless as if determined to prove you wrong. The overwhelming sensation leaves you gasping, your fingers clutching at his forearm for balance. His free hand slides down your body, gripping your waist to hold you steady as he drives deeper, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

“Still not mine?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone is equal parts teasing and commanding, daring you to resist him. “Still think someone else can fuck you better than I can?” You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans spilling from you, but the way he moves, the way he claims you, has you crumbling. “Say it,” he repeats, his voice a low growl that echoes through your very core.

Torn between defiance and surrender, you meet his challenge with a shaky breath. “I’m-” you begin, but he cuts you off with a particularly deep thrust that has you crying out his name instead.

“Hmm?” Lewis chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying your struggle. His grip on your neck softens slightly as his fingers trace the column of your throat in a soothing gesture. “Come on, baby, just say it.”

“I’m-” The word catches in your throat as he shifts slightly, the angle of his hips hitting a spot that sends a jolt of pleasure through you. A broken moan escapes your lips instead, and Lewis smirks against your ear, clearly revelling in your unravelling.

“Say it,” he demands again, his voice low and demanding. His hand slides from your throat to your jaw, turning your face just enough that his lips can brush against the corner of your mouth. The gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the raw intensity of his movements, leaving you breathless.

“I’m yours,” you finally gasp, the words tumbling out in a mix of desperation and surrender.

Lewis freezes for a heartbeat, his chest heaving against your back as the admission settles between you. Then, with a triumphant growl, he resumes his pace, his grip on you tightening as if he intends to imprint himself into every fibber of your being.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. His lips trail along your shoulder, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “Say it again.”

“Yours,” you whisper, the word coming easier this time, though the weight of it still sends a shiver through you.

His rhythm grows more urgent, his body moving with a single-minded purpose as he pushes you both toward the edge. “Never forget it,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, “now come for me.” You blame the singular cocktail you had three or so hours ago for your compliance to his words, as you feel the wave of pleasure crash over you, obliterating any coherent thought. Your body trembles uncontrollably in his arms, your cries of release echoing in the room as he whispers sweet words of praise in your ear.

There are a million other things Lewis expects you to say, but you surprise him with a, “I wanna taste you.”

Lewis's movements still, his breath catching at your unexpected words. He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with surprise and a flicker of intrigue. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement and undeniable heat.

You nod, your cheeks flushing under his intense gaze, but there’s a spark of confidence in your eyes. “I really do,” you say softly, the tremble in your voice betraying both your boldness and your eagerness.

He studies you for a moment longer, his expression shifting to one of reverence laced with desire. "Well," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "who am I to deny you, darling?" With a gentleness that contrasts the fervour of moments ago, Lewis guides you to sit up, his hands warm and steady as they support you. He shifts to the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly, giving you room and letting you take control. His gaze never leaves you, his dark eyes glinting with anticipation. You settle between his thighs, your hands skimming over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles tense under your touch. There's a sense of power in the way his body responds to you, in the way his breathing hitches when your lips brush against him. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with a small smile before leaning in. The moment your mouth closes around him, Lewis groans low in his throat, his head falling back as his control begins to slip. His hands find their way to your hair, his touch gentle but firm as he guides you, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Just like that,” he praises, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re perfect, baby.”

The sound of his voice, the way he says your name like it’s the only thing that matters, spurs you on, and you lose yourself in the moment, intent on unravelling him the way he did you. Your lips move with deliberate intent, your tongue tracing teasing paths that have him groaning your name like a prayer. His fingers tighten in your hair, a gentle tug that makes you glance up at him through your lashes. The sight of him – head tilted back, his lips parted as he struggles for breath, sends a thrill through you.

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice ragged and filled with awe. His eyes find yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs to steady yourself. The sound he makes is primal, his control slipping further as his hips jerk involuntarily. He tries to hold himself back, but you can tell he’s close to losing himself completely. “Baby,” Lewis rasps, his voice thick with need, “you keep that up, and I won’t last.” You hum around him in response, the vibration pulling another groan from his lips. His hand slips from your hair to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a tender contrast to the raw passion between you. “Look at me,” he whispers, his tone almost pleading.

You meet his gaze, and the connection between you feels electric. His chest heaves as his breaths come in quick, shallow bursts, his control hanging by a thread. “I’m so close,” he warns, his voice a low growl. “Do you want me to stop?” The shake of your head is all the answer he needs. With a curse under his breath, he lets go, his body shuddering as he gives himself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through him. He holds your gaze the entire time, his grip on you tightening as if anchoring himself to the moment.

When he calms down, he collapses back against the bed, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. You sit back after swallowing, a triumphant smile playing on your lips as you take in the sight of him, utterly undone. “That was fun,” you rasp as you take in the sight in front of you.

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound low and breathless, as he drapes an arm over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Fun?” he repeats, his voice laced with amusement and lingering satisfaction. He peeks at you from under his arm, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of adoration and disbelief. “You’ve got no idea what you just did to me.”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you crawl up the bed to lie beside him. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you tease, your voice light but with a hint of pride.

He turns toward you, propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching out to trace lazy circles along your arm. “You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet filled with a reverence that makes your cheeks flush. “And I’m completely at your mercy.”

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, as you nuzzle into his touch. “I think you like it that way,” you reply, your fingers grazing over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch.

“More than you know,” he admits, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your temple. The tender gesture contrasts with the raw intensity you’d just shared, and it sends a warm flutter through your chest.

For a moment, silence falls between you, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets and the slowing rhythm of his breathing. Then Lewis shifts, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

The weight of his words settles over you, and you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his gaze. “Good,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He smiles back, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face as he tightens his hold on you. “That’s all I get?”

“We’ll see how you feel after we get home,” you mumble as you run a finger along the curve of his jaw, “you might be bored of me by then.”

“Home,” Lewis muses quietly, breaking the silence and ignoring your words. His voice is softer now, contemplative. “I like the sound of that.”

You glance up at him, his face so close that you can see the faintest hint of vulnerability in his expression. It stirs something deep within you – a mix of tenderness and longing that takes you by surprise.

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Me too.”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fluff

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onlyangel4 · 5 months ago

Text

cindy lou who. cs55. op81. SMAU. final part

request: Can you do a lando x reader or Carlos x reader based on the song Cindy Lou who by Sabrina Carpenter

in which carlos moves on but you couldn't. when you do move on you realise he didn't move on as much as you thought he had

warnings: angst. cursing. five year age gap with carlos. for this i am just pretending the the hungarian gp did not have all of its issue and it was a normal win for oscar, pls let me be delusional.

part one

y/ninsta posted a story tagging alexandrasaintmleux and charlesleclerc

written: happy anniversary to my favourite couple in the entire world. thank you for looking after me when things went to shit a year ago. i will never forget the kindness you both showed me. i love you both.

y/ninsta

written: celebrating love with my favourite people tonite!

f1updates

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 150,321 others

f1updates: charles and alex are throwing party to celebrate their anniversary so of course the biggest advocate for their relationship y/n y/ln is in attendance. this is y/n's first time attending a driver based event since she broke up with carlos sainz just over a year ago. carlos and rebecca are also in attendance. awkward.

view all 10,902 comments

user1: go on y/n show him what he fumbled

user2: welcome back y/n the kids missed you

user3: she is so fucking hot

landonorris posted a story

written: third wheeling at an anniversary party. i am so fucking single.

f1wags

liked by user5, user6, user7 and 128,092 others

f1wags: carlos sainz and rebecca donaldson were pictured in a heating argument out in monaco. this comes a week after the entire grid met to celebrate charles and alex. sources said the couple looked solid then but now it is a very different story. rebecca and carlos have unfollowed each other on all social media and rebecca is no longer wearing her engagement ring.

view all 2,928 comments

user6: so there starts being runours about oscar and y/n and then this happens. umm.. suspicious

user5: y/n i stg if you go back to him i will track you down and kill you myself

user7: i hope to god that our y/n keeps her composure and leaves him in the past

f1wags

liked by user8, user9, user10 and 210,921 others

f1wags: our jaws are on the floor. y/n y/ln has arrived at the hungarian gp. she arrived alone but people did see her rush over to alexandra saint mleux. no one knows what garage y/n will be in. but here at f1wags we have our fingers crossed for mclaren.

view all 721 comments

user8: i swear to god if she is here with carlos. babe it has been over a year, forget about him

user9: y/noscar nation rise

user10: the fit oh my god wag y/n is so back

y/ninsta

liked by danielricciardo, fernandoalonso, alexandrasaintmleux and 912,321 others

tagged oscarpiastri

y/ninsta: guys my boyfriend just won his first gp and i am sobbing in mclaren hospitality. i love you with all my heart osc. you have made me so fucking proud my love.

view all 19,021 comments

oscarpiastri: i love you so much. you are the best lucky charm to ever exist

y/ninsta: stop, you'll make me cry again

danielricciardo: that's my boy

y/ninsta: no mine

fernandoalo_oficial: if this one hurts you like the other one did i will kill him

y/ninsta: i'll tell him that

alexandrasaintmleux: everyone say thank you alex and charles for introducing this couple

y/ninsta: thank you darling

oscarpiastri: thank you for introducing me to my girl

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such-a-daydreamer · 1 month ago

Note

hello how do you feel anout twins in time au??? maybe twins it time angst????

Okay so I made this animation AGES ago and never planned to post it cuz I never finished it lol but here you go!

But OH MY GOD i CANNOT get enough of that au. people. If you know any good fics drop them in the comments I AM BEGGING

Also made this shitty lil doodle. Stan realised that the first decent meal he's eaten in years was made by his brother and just lost it. The steak was fine, Stan just didn't want to cry in front of his brother again

ALSO THESE SUPER SUPER OLD PIECES OF ART

#me when I should be the content I want to consume: RAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH #gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #ford pines #stan pines #grunkle ford #young stanley pines #gravity falls animation #young ford pines #mullet stanley #my works

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amyispxnk · 17 days ago

Text

Silent Night

Summary - You're back from college for the holidays, and you've decided on exactly what you want for Christmas - Joel Miller's cock.

A/N: this was such a last minute fic im ngl rn. wasn't even planning on posting a Christmas fic, let alone my FIRST dbf joel miller smut?? anyway, i hope everyone enjoys. happy Christmas<3

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut, some good ole daddy kink, age gap (20+ years), Joel is pretty pervy in this, alcohol, divorce mentions. Not proofread because I'm tired

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

When you left for college all that time ago, Joel didn't have any strong feelings towards you. You were his best friend's kid, so naturally he saw you often, and got close with you. You were a sweet kid, kind, smart (more than him, he reckoned), and very.. determined when you wanted to be.

Now you're back for Christmas, and as he sees you exiting your dad's car, hurrying over to him, yelling “Joel! Joel! Oh, I missed you so much!” he realises how fucked up his mind might be.

Any normal guy who was reuniting with a girl he'd known since she was a teenager, and a girl he had at least 20 years on, would not be looking at how her tits bounced in her crop top, or how her leggings were tight enough to let him see just how perfect your ass was.

But Joel wasn't normal, he wasn't a good man, so he was looking for all of those things. If he'd actually been looking at your face, maybe he'd have seen you smirking. Maybe he'd have realised you wore those clothes for exactly this reason.

Joel, or dad's best buddy, Mr Miller, as you'd known him until you were 16 and couldn't be bothered to pay respect to your elders, had been a part of your life for a while.

Ever since your mom took off, Joel was coming around far more often and, in his own gruff and quiet way, was taking care of you more than your own father was at the time.

Nowadays, you didn't really have any resentment towards your father because of this - he'd just gotten divorced, he was going through a rough time.

But teenage you definitely did, and having Joel step in like that definitely left you with mixed feelings.

If things weren't the way they were back then, you'd probably have developed this all-encompassing crush on him even earlier.

When you were leaving for college though, the crush suddenly dived into your life, crashing down and muddling up everything you thought you knew about yourself.

Now, as you returned back home at last, you knew you had to have him, or you feared you might just lose it.

He was everything a girl.. like you, could want right now. Old, brooding, mysterious, and so fucking hot.

So as you hopped over to him where he stood in his front lawn, you made sure to hug him tight and make sure he could really feel that you weren't wearing a bra. You knew he was looking already, so why not let him feel it?

He hesitated for a moment - probably struggling with his boner which you swore you could already feel - before bringing his arms around you and clapping you on the back.

“I missed you so much, Mr Miller.” You hum sweetly, looking up at him through your eyelashes. His own eyes almost flutter shut at the name you chose to use for him, and he manages to choke out a soft missed ya too, darlin’.

That darlin’ would be enough to make you come tonight.

Your dad finally turns around after unloading your luggage and turning the car off, greeting Joel before the two of you head to your house.

The next day, it's Christmas Eve. Dinner rolls around, and you check over your makeup one more time. You don't want it to be too much - it would look weird, considering it was only Joel coming over (your dad was a solitary creature) - but you still had to look good for him.

The doorbell rings and you almost trip down the stairs. “I'll get it, dad!” You yell, and he thanks you, completely unaware of your motives.

You open the door, biting back a smirk when Joel immediately looks you up and down, only just managing to tear his eyes away from your chest.

“Hi, Mr Miller. It's so good to see you.” You smile sweetly.

“Hi, sweetheart… told ya y’dont have ta call me that. Joel's fine.” He says softly, eyes still a little hazy.

You step back to let him inside and immediately take one of the beers he'd brought over once he sets the case down.

“Y’old enough to drink that, honey?” He teases, mind finally out of the gutter for now.

“I'm 21 in like.. a month. It's fineeee.” You smirk, tipping your head back and taking a big swig, showing off the long column of your neck and the swell of your breasts.

His mind is back in the gutter.

Your eyes are off him for now, so he allows him to drink in the sight of you properly. A silly Christmas hat atop your curled, gorgeous hair; red sweater tight around your breasts, little candy-canes dotted around it; your skirt, far too short and he's almost certain you're teasing him now, tights underneath making him want to rip them clean off of you. Your makeup looks perfect, red lips which he knows would look perfect around his cock, mascara which he can picture smudged and ruined from tears and sweat while you fuck-

“Joel, y’made it! Cmon, sit with me.” Your dad grins, and Joel's eyes widen. What the fuck is wrong with him? He cannot be thinking that way about you.

He shakes his head, muttering something to himself before going to sit with your dad.

Joel finally thinks he'll have some reprieve from your incessant teasing, letting out a tired sigh as he sits on the couch, your dad on the armchair.

“Tired already, old man?” Your dad teases.

“You're older than me, asshole.” Joel grunts, earning him a chuckle.

Just then, you appear in the doorway. Of course, of-fucking-course, you'd decide to watch TV with them tonight. It's soccer, for Christ's sake, you'd always get bored out of your mind and run upstairs to go on your phone whenever the game was on.

Not today though, much to Joel's dismay.

“What're you watching?” You ask, sitting beside Joel. He tries to mask his discomfort.

“Just soccer hon, I know you don't like-” your dad starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“No, no! It's fine. I'll try watching it tonight.” You smile softly, and settle in to watch.

You clearly get bored after about 5 minutes, sighing softly.

“You really find this interesting?” You murmur to Joel, now having made yourself comfortable on his shoulder. He tried to make himself as stiff as possible when you first lay on him, but you were persistent as always, and he just gave in.

“Ain't nobody forcin’ you to watch it.” He argues, and you keep quiet after that, eventually getting up to go get the food ready.

Dinner is yet another trial for Joel. You've gotten just as frustrated and impatient as he is, it seems.

Leaning in front of him when serving the food, giving him a clear view of your tits. Not to mention you never serve food, set the table, but all of a sudden you're acting like little miss helpful today.

‘Accidentally’ dropping a cup and bending over in his eyeshot to pick it up.

Sitting beside him at the table instead of with your dad.

When your hand moves to his thigh, he bolts upright, earning him a look from your dad.

“Bathroom,” is all he can get out before he's rushing upstairs.

“Fucking kid. Thinks she can fuckin’.. pull all this shit with me.. thinks she can act like this in front of her dad.. fuck me.” He mutters to himself, despite undoing his belt and pulling his cock out, barely stifling his groan when he spits on his palm and starts tugging at his length so fast it's almost painful.

His mind conjures up all sorts of unholy images, and he's on the brink of release when- “Mr Miller,” you coo, knocking on the door. “is everything okay? You've been gone for like 10 minutes. Was it something in the food?”

He's so angry, so pent-up, he wants to pull you in here and just fuck that goddamn attitude out of you.

He's deathly silent, flushing, turning on the sink as he pulls his pants up, blue-balled like he'd never been before, and exiting the bathroom.

“Everything is fine.” He grits out, fists clenched as he walks past you. You eye his bulge and smirk before practically skipping down the stairs.

“He said everything's fine, daddy.” You smile to your dad, and he almost collapses. He swears he sees god for a second.

That word coming out of your mouth should absolutely not turn him on like it just did - but it did.

The rest of dinner, he's almost silent, just gulping down beer and chewing on his now cold turkey. You don't try anything with him, actually a little afraid he might just get up and leave.

Instead, you wait until the movie.

Your dad puts Die Hard on, and after a lengthy argument about whether or not it even counts as a Christmas movie, - you insist it's not and will carry that with you to the grave - you settle beside Joel.

Joel thinks he's made it through the worst of the evening, but then you shiver. You shiver again, and then you pout, and he feels obliged to ask.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah.. can I have some of the blanket?” You whisper. Your dad is practically falling asleep in the armchair.

He goes to hand you the blanket, and you, devious as ever, put it over both of your laps, cuddling up to Joel even more.

He's on full alert right now, stiff as a log, waiting for your next game.

The movie goes on, and then your hand creeps under the sheet. Moving from the side, to your own lap, to his arm, then to his leg-

“What're you-” he grunts, but you just shush him.

“I'm trying to watch the movie, Joel.” You huff, as if your hand isn't on his cock right now.

His eyes are darting between you, the screen, his lap under the blanket, and your dad. Way too much is going on, and as you start palming him, he lets out the most pained groan. He sees you biting your lip and he's so angry, so horny, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Your dad suddenly wakes up, and the bubble pops. You pretend you're asleep on Joel's shoulder, and you know you've won when Joel tells your dad to just go on up, that he'll make sure she gets to bed.

As soon as your dad's bedroom door shuts, Joel grabs your jaw, glaring at you.

“Exactly what the fuck do you think you're doing, little girl?” He spits, and you giggle softly.

“‘m not doing anyth- ow, Joel!” You whimper when he squeezes your cheeks together.

“You gonna tell the truth now? Gonna answer me properly?” He says, tone and eyes cold as the ice on your driveway.

You nod, trying to stifle your whimper. He eases the grip on your jaw, still holding it, before asking you again.

“What do you think you're doing?” He says through clenched teeth, and you know he's not fucking around anymore.

“I.. I just..” Fuck it, you may as well shoot your shot, otherwise what was the point of everything tonight anyway?

“I wanted you to fuck me, Joel.”

Creak goes the step at the top of your staircase, and you squeak, jumping off the couch as Joel pulls the blanket and a pillow over his lap. You rush upstairs past your dad, hurriedly bidding him goodnight before slamming your door.

“Just came to grab my phone. Everythin' alright..?” He asks, brows furrowed at your skittish behaviour.

Joel nods, and your dad leaves him alone.

His cock has been throbbing for hours. So long that it's actually painful. But now he can't do anything. You and your dad are upstairs, you'll be asleep in 5 minutes, and Joel will just have to pretend it's your pussy wrapped around his length when he fucks his fist in the guest bedroom tonight.

Guilt gnaws away at him as he cleans his come off of his hand and stomach, tossing the tissues into the bin before changing into some sweats and managing to fall asleep after half an hour of tossing and turning.

The world seems to hate him, since he wakes up at 2am, heading to the bathroom only to walk past your bedroom and hear you moaning. He can't make out what you're moaning - but he has a good idea - and he's thankful your doors are quiet when he opens the one to your room.

You're facing away from the door, legs spread, face in your pillow as your hips buck, fingers working your pussy furiously.

“Joel, Joel, fuck-” you gasp, whimpering as you get close.

Fuck this.

If he didn't get to come for the entire evening, you did not get to come right now.

He walks over to you, morales abandoned, and growls your name.

You squeak, biting your lip as you turn and look at him. You'd been so close, but now you're too petrified to finish.

“Joel, I-”

“Not another word.”

It's the last thing he says before he flips you back onto your stomach, pushing your head down into the pillows.

“You're gonna be a good girl and shut the fuck up while I fuck this needy pussy. You understand me?”

You part your lips to reply, earning a spank to your ass.

“Can't fuckin’ listen, can ya? No talking, baby.”

You nod, whimpering as he pushes your head back down and pulls your soaked panties off, tossing them onto the floor.

“Fuck, look at her. Drippin’ for me, ain't she? Didn't know you were such a slut, babygirl.” He teases, knuckles dragging along your slit, and you cry into the pillow, hips bucking back against his hand.

Another spank, making you moan, trying to stop your hips from bucking once more.

“You take what you're fucking given. Do you understand me?”

You nod, having learnt from your mistakes.

“Good girl. Knew you could listen for me.” He coos, before he's thrusting two of his thick fingers into your dripping heat.

You gasp and whine, moaning his name into the pillow, almost tearing your sheets with how hard you grip them.

“That's right.. moan my name. Fuckin’ slut.” He grunts, head ducking down to tease your clit with his tongue. You almost lose it, starting to clench hard and fast around his fingers. You're right on the edge when he pulls away.

“Joel!” You practically sob, deflating as your orgasm drifts away.

“Shh, shh. You thought you could tease me all night and still get off? Y’thought wrong, honey.” He coos, mocking, pulling down his sweatpants and slicking up his cock with your wetness, giving you no warning as he starts to push in.

“Ohh, fuck. Knew you'd be tight for me, baby. That's it, good girl.” He groans, bottoming out. He allows you to cry his name into the pillow, but when he starts really fucking you, it gets too much.

He pulls out to the tip before slamming back into you, making you almost scream, back arching and hips bucking - unsure if you want him to get out, or fuck you even harder.

He decides for you, starting to pound into you. The only sounds in the room are your broken moans, his heavy breathing, and the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin.

“Joel- Joel- pl-please I'm gonna come- please Daddy-” you moan, and his hips stutter before he's pulling you up by your hair, his back to your chest when he resumes his aggressive thrusts.

“Shut- the fuck- up.” He pants in-between thrusts, and you whimper, brows drawing together as you get close. He starts rubbing your clit and you see stars, unable to stop yourself from coming.

“Fuckfuckfuck yes, yes daddy- oh my god-” you sob, before he's pulling out and manhandling you onto your back, thrusting back inside to the hilt, palm covering your mouth.

“You better shut up right now unless you want your real daddy to wake up, find us here like this-” you curse silently when you clench around him at the thought - what is wrong with you?

“Oh, you like that? Dirty fucking girl. Such a slut for daddy, huh?” You clench tighter at that, and his thrusts speed up, pace irregular. “Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.”

His hand leaves your mouth and you cover it yourself, not wanting to anger him anymore.

“‘s okay, baby.” He murmurs, taking your hand from your mouth and leaning down to kiss you. As he does, his hand goes to your clit, and you moan loudly, muffled slightly by the kiss, as your back arches off the bed and you come so hard you see stars, setting off his own release and making him groan, biting your shoulder as he fills you up.

It's quiet for a moment, save for your shared panting, before he pulls out.

“Fuck, honey..” he murmurs, watching your shared fluids dribble out of your cunt, gathering them up on his fingers and pushing them back into your tight hole.

“Made such a mess, didn't we?” He says softly, brushing your hair away from your eyes as you giggle softly, nodding.

“That was so good.” You whisper, and he nods, gathering you up in your arms.

“Joel, you can't stay in here-” you mutter, confused.

“Just relax, honey. I'll leave in the mornin’. Just let me hold you for now.”

You're utterly perplexed, but you're definitely not complaining, swallowed up by his warmth and drifting off within a minute.

The next morning, you're opening presents, and you bite your lip when he reads his card from you. At the bottom, you'd added - come to my room afterwards for the second part of your gift - and when he comes upstairs afterwards, it's safe to say he doesn't leave for a good hour.

Dividers by @adornedwithlight <3

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Have a good Christmas everyone!! ❤️

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 25 days ago

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Hi, I just wanted to say thanks for all you do, you are a Tumblr bright spot and all around good egg. In particular though, I wanted to thank you for talking about Welsh language so often and freely. I remember ages ago you were understandably frustrated that someone who ought to be using correct Welsh place names wasn't, and I thought, "I can practice that as a way to have basic respect for the place, people and language". I found it trickier than I expected, though, and I was cross with myself. Then I saw a post of yours about how Welsh pronunciation is very consistent, even in place names, and I realised that I am struggling with a very English problem - place names are so variable (like Alnwick and Alnmouth, same blooming river, one has a silent L). I was really insecure about reading the Welsh letters in case they changed in ways I didn't predict. Now when I struggle, I can remind myself not to impose english problems on a not-English language. And if i can spot that unconscious bias, i can look for others, and that's because of things you said, and I'm really grateful. So thank you, I think you're great.

This is so sweet and lovely, thank you!!! And thank you so much for learning Welsh orthography, it's so incredibly meaningful. I hope you have the loveliest day filled with good things and you find a tenner in a pocket you'd forgotten about

#asks #tedious personal details

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georgeclarkesgf · 9 months ago

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forgetful | george clarke

the minute george stepped into the flat, he knew something was off.

"y/n? you here?" walking further into the flat, he found y/n in the kitchen making herself a cup of tea, "hey, sorry i'm back so late. we missed t-"

"don't. i can't believe you. all i asked was that you not plan to film today and i wake up to a message telling me you've gone to film a video for arthur. do you even know why i asked you to stay home today?"

he was trying to remember, really he was. but his mind was blank and the guilt began to seep in, only just noticing the tears that left stains on her cheeks.

"no. of course you don't. my parents are in town george. i planned a nice lunch, maybe go on a walk, come back to the flat for a few drinks, but all that went to shit because you left to film a stupid video and then ignored my messages all day. you know how important it is to me that you get along with my parents so having to cancel on them last minute because you weren't even here was not something i wanted to have to do." the tears in her eyes were threatening to fall again, hating how needy and pathetic she sounded.

"we can sti-" george tried, again quickly being shut down.

"no george, i'm mad at you. you don't get to say it'll be alright and that we can still do something. we're not playing happy families. you've hurt me. when we sort this out, then we organise something else."

now the guilt was in full swing and he immediately started to think of ways he could make it up to her, knowing it would take a lot of grovelling to get back onto her good side.

"i'm going to bed, i love you." a soft kiss being placed on his lips.

"i love you too." slight relief evident on his face, knowing she'll never not say 'i love you', even during an argument.

she rounded the kitchen island, starting to make her way to his room and get ready for bed. george watched as she closed the door, still stood in the kitchen, contemplating whether to follow her or give her some space.

he decided on the latter.

--------

it was nearing midnight when george decided he needed some sleep, and the dip in the bed as he got comfortable was enough to wake y/n, a groan leaving her lips.

"sorry. i didn't mean to wake you," she let out an agitated hum of acknowledgement and rolled over, curling into george's side, unable to resist the heat his body always provided, "still mad at me?"

"yep." she responded, accentuating the 'p'.

"okay. can we talk about it?"

"i've said my peace. you go."

"i really am sorry sweetheart, i feel awful," her nails were running along the lines and dips of his stomach, a habit he'd grown accustomed to over the several months they'd been together, "the video was planned ages ago and i didn't even realise the dates clashed. when you reminded me of 'that thing' that was happening today i thought you meant filming. i promise to make it up to you. and your parents. please say they don't hate me."

george hoped it was enough, not that he wouldn't do anything she asked to get her to forgive him, but he couldn't stand the thought of her staying mad at him.

in y/n's head, he was forgiven. during her time alone, she realised she didn't even give him a chance to explain before locking herself in his room for the rest of the night.

"i'm sorry too," george was slightly taken aback by this, unsure what she was apologising for, "i shouldn't have stormed off like that. not even letting you speak before i disappeared all night. and my parents don't hate you. we can do dinner tomorrow if that's okay with you?"

"that's more than okay. i have my whole day free to spend with you and them. we can do whatever you guys want. i love you."

"i love you. so much. even if you are forgetful."

and george stuck to his promise. safe to say y/n's parents like george more than her.

a/n have this as an 'i'm sorry i haven't posted in a while present' <3

#george clarke #george clarkey #arthurtv #chaoscrew #sidemen #arthur hill #tiktok #george clarkey x reader #george clarke x reader #blurbs #george clarkey imagines #george clarke imagines #blurb #youtube #youtuber imagine #youtuber x reader #youtuber imagines #george clarkey imagine #george clarke imagine

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ceaseless-watchers-special-girl · 9 months ago

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looks like you want him crucified babes

me: i love you peter nureyev i love you hugs you kisses you loves you

me getting out of bio (we talked abt the skeletal system), bees buzzing under my skin: i need to break him PHYSICALLY.

#and lo we return to the weird fucking jesus nureyev au #might be wrong i can't read your handwriting lmaooo #i need to read the user before i start reading the post. i read this ages ago and didn't realise it was you??? you do biology???#tpp #the penumbra podcast #peter nureyev #yeah i need him strung up too. i just had a vision but alas. i need to write an essay today. two if i have time. no time for fic :(

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selfloverrrrrr · 6 months ago

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Can I request a non-con (very detailed) where the rich popular kid in college is obsessed with reader. they started dating . After a few months of dating reader realized that character was a yandere and was her stalker she wanted to break up with him but didn't know how he would react. The yandere was at a party and became very drunk so he slept with someone who looked like reader . Then the girl he slept with posted a insta story where yandere was sleeping beside them and reader saw it and when yandere came back reader already left . Reader was already planning on leaving yandere because of their yandere tendencies and controlling behaviour, so after finding out he was cheating she left and yandere wasn't happy abt that . so afew months later in college yandere was walking around but heard a very familiar voice realising it was readers voice he started listening then he heard reader talking abt how she was planning on leaving him but she didn't know how to break it to him so when she found out he was cheating she used that as an excuse to leave him. Yandere was not happy with it he tried to talk with reader but people were always around her so he couldn't approach. Afew years later they meet each other again in a reunion and yandere still wants reader . // I love your writings so much they make my day better .also you should open a backup account 💖

Thank you for the request 💗 I love your requests so much 💗 hope you gonna like it...

Don't Rush

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physical and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Megumi, stalking, protective, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Y/n's POV

Everything was going fine. Megumi was the most popular rich boy in our college. I always had a crush on him. But one day he came to me and proposed to me. We were together from then. Everything was going well between us.

After one year of dating. I found out he stalked me everywhere?! He had a tracker in my phone... and had cameras in my room and even in my bathroom. What kind of scary shit is that?! After getting to know these things I was already planning on breaking up with him but couldn't find any excuse. Because he was a psychopath!

A month later there was a birthday party of Megumi's friend. He asked me if I wanna go. I said no I wasn't feeling well. He said won't go there either then. But I forced him to go because I wanted some free time for myself. And maybe that was my great decision for the break up.

What happened is... He went to the party. He was drunk and slept with a girl. He thought it was me. His friends told me the whole thing... His friends didn't stopped him? Shitty friends! And the extreme thing was that girl post a story on ig. Megumi and her on bed Megumi was sleeping.

That photo made my heart hurt. But I controlled myself. Because That could be a great reason for the break up! And it happened too! ....he begged me not to go, to stay with him, said sorry for a million times. But we broke up. And to be honest life feels better.

Last year of college in farewell

Megumi's POV

Today was the farewell of our college. I entered the college and I heard a familiar voice in the hallway. Fuck I missed her! I missed y/n so much! I tried to explain to her what happened that night... I didn't do that on purpose ... But she didn't even listen to me. And that bitch girl who slept with me I don't even remember her name...she kept asking me out like fuck off... you ruined my life!

"really?... Megumi? I can't believe it!" I heard y/n's friend said to her. I stopped where I was when I heard they were talking about me. I carefully listen to them.

Y/n: yeah... that is true

Y/n's friend: you mean you didn't broke up with him for that night?

Y/n: ofcourse not... I was planning on breaking up with him a long ago couldn't find any reason....he stalked me, put cameras in my house ! He's a psychopath...

Y/n's friend: that's really scary you know

My eyes widened when I heard that. She got to know I stalked her and put cameras in her house?! But she could've talked with me! And that night wasn't the reason for breaking up with me?! The pain and anger I was feeling together! She'll know... she'll know her place...she is mine! How can she leave me this broken for a shitty reason!!!

Y/n's POV

It was the last day of our college. Everything went well... at least I thought. I thought it was going to be perfect for moving on.... Until my door bell rang. "Coming" I said and went to the door. It was already late at night. I opened the door. There was an awkward silence.

"what do you want?" I asked. "Babe, please.." Megumi whined and came inside on his own and closed the door. "Don't call me babe" I said. "Babe, I'm sorry...." He said as if he's gonna cry. "Tell me why did we break up?" Megumi asked. "As if you don't know... it's that fucking night!" I replied.

"really is it?" He asked. "Yes... now get out and don't show me your face again" I said. "So she had sex with me and you didn't.. that's your fucking reason?!" He screamed on my face. "That's your reason... then let's make it okay" he said and grabbed my arm. Started dragging me towards the couch.

"Megumi stop! What the fuck are you doing!" I said. He threw me on the couch. "The fuck is wrong with you!" I said. He climbed on top of me. "Nothing is wrong with me... I'm fixing which is wrong with you" he said. "Megumi get off me right now!" I said. "And what if I don't?" He said and pressed his lips on mine.

Forcing his tongue inside my mouth. Exploring my mouth. Kissing me roughly. He wasn't even giving me time to take a breath. Then he pulled away. "You broke up with me just because I stalked you? Fit cameras and trackers? I'm your fucking boyfriend I'm supposed to know where you are and what are you doing.... you should support me on that!" He screamed again.

He grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. My boobs bounced out. He looked at those with lust in his eyes and didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensetion. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it but it didn't even effect on him. "M-Megumi stopppp" I screamed but he didn't stop.

Then he took off my skirt and then took off my pantie. he looked at my pussy. He rubbed his finger on my clit. Then he licked my pussy. I couldn't help but moan loudly. He smirked at my reaction and undo his pants.

His dick sprang out. It was too big and too thick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " M-Megumi no no no... P-please no... s-stop" I begged but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I screamed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thrusting in and out roughly. "How does it feel?..it feels good, right? This is what you wanted? To feel my dick?" He said and laughed sarcastically. I was through my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he liked it so much. His thrust became harder and harder.

I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh....ahhh s-so...ahhhh....so f-fucking tight " he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thrust I came. He was still thrusting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh...no please no....ahhhhhh..... n-not ahhhh.....not inside..." I moaned. He grabbed my throat and chocked me down to the bed. " Shhh.... shut up and just fucking take what I'm giving you." He screamed. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. Then he pulled out.

"try to leave for giving me any dumb reason... you'll see how rough I can be" he whispered in my ear.

Give me your requests guys...

I love when you give me your requests 💕

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seriiousgiirl · 3 months ago

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𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 — 𝒜 𝒮𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝒿𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓍 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇.⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. alternate universe - canon divergence, post-silent Hill 2, angst and fluff and smut, touch-starved, redemption, grief, mourning, psychological trauma and horror, mutual pining, James adopted Laura, age difference, smut, vaginal sex, rough sex, rough kissing, aftercare, daddy kink, James deserves his happy ending, James is desperate and pathetic, based on the Silent Hill Games and mostly the remake

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. James is just needy and frustrated.

❛ Part 1 ⋅ Part 3 ⋅ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ⋅ requests ❜

➜ ┊ a/n: Ok, I didn't expect to get so much positive feedback on this story, let alone people reading it. Thanks for the reposts, and the likes, it's really heartwarming. I hope this new chapter lives up to your expectations!

➜ ┊: chapter 2/?.

Yeah, I’m fine,

Just, you know, work and everything.

James' words echoed in your mind far longer than you'd expected, long after you left the school and returned home. It was such a simple explanation, too simple, almost rehearsed. You replayed the conversation over and over, dissecting every syllable. Was that really the whole truth? Or were you just looking too much into it? You usually worried about your students, not their parents, but there was something about Mr. Sunderland that was different.

The way his voice had that edge to it, tired yet restrained, lingered with you.

You tried to brush it off as you kicked off your shoes and hung up your coat, settling into your familiar routine, but it wasn’t easy. Mr. Sunderland had always caught your eye—not in the usual way parents did when they showed up to school events, eager to check off a duty. There was something about him, a fragility hidden beneath his exterior that you couldn't quite ignore. You couldn't stop yourself from wondering, Is he okay?

He wasn’t just Laura’s dad to you; he was an enigma of sorts, a man who seemed out of place among the chatter of parents and the laughter of children. The first time you really noticed it was years ago, at a school event. You could still remember it clearly, as if it had just happened. The room was filled with the vibrant energy of kids running around, voices overlapping, and parents chatting with one another, but James stood on the outskirts, a shadow of a man amidst the lightness. His posture had been tense, like he was holding himself together by sheer will, his eyes distant and guarded, scanning the room as if he didn’t belong.

You had watched him, then—just a little too long—and something about the way he looked made you wonder if he was more lost than he let on. There was a weight in his eyes, a haunted look that never quite went away, no matter how much he smiled for Laura or spoke politely to the other parents. It had unsettled you, this quiet suffering that no one else seemed to notice, or even care to notice.

As you moved about your apartment, grabbing a glass of water and flipping through papers, your mind kept circling back to that same thought. Normally, you were good at compartmentalising—work was work, home was home. But James blurred those lines for you, even when you didn't want him to. There was something about him, something that tugged at your heart in a way that made it hard to let go once you started worrying.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You had no reason to be this concerned.

After all, you barely knew him beyond your interactions about Laura. And yet, here you were, standing in your kitchen, your mind consumed with thoughts of a man you’d only spoken to a handful of times. It was absurd, but the more you thought about it, the more you realised that you had been noticing him for a while. Maybe it was his quietness, or the way he seemed to drift away in crowded rooms, but something about him had planted itself in your mind and refused to leave.

You were a teacher, not a therapist, and you had no business prying into his life. But that didn’t stop you from caring. You knew that if you hadn’t spoken to him at that first event, if you hadn’t seen that lost, almost broken look in his eyes, you might have been able to brush it off. But you had seen it, and now it was impossible to unsee.

Maybe that was why his tiredness today had stuck with you. The dark circles under his eyes, the way he seemed to force a smile—it all felt too familiar, too much like someone who was holding themselves together by a thread. You sighed, staring into the dim light of your living room, feeling the weight of something you couldn't name.

Maybe it was because you saw a little of yourself in him, in that quiet sadness that never quite left his face.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t going away. And as much as you tried to tell yourself it was just concern for a parent of your student, deep down, you knew it ran deeper than that.

As you ate dinner, you recalled the school event vividly, the day you first gathered the courage to talk to him. The air was filled with laughter and chatter, and you were moving through it all with practised ease, making sure everyone felt comfortable and included. That’s when you saw him.

He had been standing there, watching Laura play with the other children. There was a sadness about him, something fragile and haunting in the way he observed everything without really engaging. You had felt a strange pull toward him, an instinct to reach out, to offer something, even if it was just a gesture of kindness.

You had hesitated at first, unsure if you should approach him. But something in his isolation spurred you forward. Gathering your courage, you had picked up two plates of the chocolate cake from the refreshments table, a favourite among the kids, and made your way toward him. As you walked up, he didn’t even notice your presence at first, so absorbed in his thoughts that he seemed to be a thousand miles away.

When you finally held up the plate under his nose, he jolted, startled by your sudden appearance. His wide eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, he looked at you as though you were a ghost, someone he hadn’t expected to see or speak to. It had almost made you retreat, thinking you had made a mistake, but you had offered him a warm smile instead, hoping to ease the tension.

“The cake is really good,” you had said softly, holding it out to him. “You should try it.”

He had blinked, then smiled politely, a small, hesitant curve of his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Thank you.” He accepted the plate from you, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest second before he pulled away, creating an awkward silence between you two.

You both stood there, watching Laura run around with the other children, her laughter floating in the air. You had wondered what to say next, unsure if you should even be speaking to him at all. But then his voice broke the silence, soft and gentle, yet with a strained quality that made it sound as if every word was carefully measured.

“You… you are young for a teacher,” he had said, his voice as uncertain as his expression. There was a pause, a flicker of discomfort in his gaze before he looked away, as if unsure whether the comment had crossed a line.

You chuckled softly, relieved that the silence had finally broken. “Yeah, I guess I found my calling pretty quickly,” you replied, taking a small bite of your own slice of cake. You had gotten used to that comment—it was something parents and even some older teachers had mentioned when you first started at the school. But somehow, coming from James, it felt different. There was something in the way he had said it, almost like he was impressed, or maybe curious, but cautious, too.

He nodded slightly, staring down at the cake in his hands before taking a hesitant bite. For a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t sure how to react, but then his face softened, and he looked at you again. “This… this is really good,” he said, almost as if the taste had surprised him.

You smiled, glad that the small gesture had helped him relax a bit. “It’s the kids’ favourite,” you told him, motioning to the crowd of children still running around, their laughter filling the air. “I bake and we serve it at every event. If it’s not on the menu, the parents complain.”

James chuckled, a low sound that barely made it past his lips, but you noticed how it brightened his face, even if only for a second. It was a small victory, seeing that shift in his expression. “I can see why,” he muttered, taking another bite as if savouring the moment.

You watched Laura playing with the other children and decided to continue the conversation, not wanting the moment to fade into awkward silence again. “Laura’s doing really well in class, by the way. She’s a joy to have. Always so curious, always ready with questions.”

James's expression softened at the mention of Laura. His eyes followed her, his gaze warm despite the distance he seemed to keep from the joyful atmosphere around him. “She loves school,” he said, his voice almost reverent, as if Laura was his anchor in a storm he couldn’t quite escape from. “It’s… amazing, really. The way she’s grown since I’ve—well, since she’s been here.”

You nodded, remembering how Laura had come into the class that first year—bright, confident, and eager to learn. “She’s a natural learner, always asking for more books, more activities. Sometimes I think she’d rather stay in class all day if she could,” you said with a laugh.

James smiled, but it didn’t fully reach his eyes. You noticed the faint lines of weariness etched into his features, and it stirred a quiet concern in you, one you couldn’t quite explain. Every time he spoke of Laura, it was like he was holding onto her with both hands, like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

“She talks about you a lot,” James said after a moment, his voice quiet again. “Says you make learning fun.”

That comment had warmed you more than you expected. “She’s sweet,” you replied, smiling at the thought of Laura mentioning you at home. “I just try to make sure the kids feel like they can explore the world in their own way. Laura seems to have a natural curiosity about everything.”

James nodded, but he seemed distant again, as if his thoughts were drifting somewhere far away. You could see it in the way his shoulders slumped slightly, the way his eyes seemed to darken as the conversation went on. You hadn’t meant to pry, but his sadness was palpable. And in that moment, you had found yourself wanting to say more, to offer some kind of reassurance. But before you could, James spoke again.

“I’m glad she’s in good hands,” he said softly, his gaze still fixed on Laura as she ran across the playground.

You remembered the weight of your words that day, how you hesitated before finally gathering the courage to ask him something that had been bothering you for a while. The conversation had been light up until that point, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the story, something beneath the surface of James’s distant demeanour and Laura’s bubbly personality.

You didn’t want to pry—especially not during a casual school event—but the question had been lingering in your mind since the start of the year. Laura’s information sheet had been so bare, so lacking in detail, compared to what most parents submitted. No emergency contacts beyond James. No mention of other family. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your place to ask, but as her teacher, you felt like you should at least know a little more.

So, as you stood next to him, the quiet stretching between you after your exchange about Laura’s love for school, you finally spoke up, your voice hesitant. “I, um… I hope you don’t mind me asking, but…” You paused, swallowing the nervousness that had crept into your throat. “On Laura’s information sheet, you didn’t fill in much. I didn’t want to pry or anything, but I was just wondering—well, if there’s anything we should know? Just to be prepared, you know, in case of an emergency.”

James’s face shifted at your words, and for a second, you thought you might have overstepped. His jaw tightened, and he looked down at the ground, his expression hard to read. You immediately regretted asking, feeling heat rush to your cheeks as the silence between you deepened.

“I didn’t mean to—” you began quickly, your words tumbling out as you tried to backtrack. “I just wanted to make sure we had everything we need for Laura. I’m sorry if that was too forward, I just—”

James shook his head, and to your surprise, he let out a soft chuckle, his lips curling into a faint smile. “No, it’s okay,” he said, his voice a little lighter now, though there was still something guarded in his tone. He glanced at Laura again, watching her as she played, before continuing. “It’s just that… I adopted Laura a few months ago. So I don’t have a lot of information about her past.”

The words hit you like a gentle but unexpected wave, washing over your initial embarrassment and replacing it with a deep sense of sympathy. “Oh,” you whispered, your cheeks flushing deeper as you realised the weight of his admission. “I—I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

James shook his head again, cutting off your apology with a reassuring smile. “Really, it’s fine,” he said, a softness in his eyes that made you relax a little. “I know it’s probably a little strange, but… I didn’t want to put too much on those forms. We’re still figuring things out—so, I would appreciate your secrecy on this matter.”

“Of course,” you nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and understanding settle in your chest. “That makes sense,” you replied, your voice softer now. There was a brief pause, an almost peaceful silence between you, and for the first time that day, you didn’t feel awkward standing beside him. You felt something quiet but real.

He glanced at you then, a flicker of something in his eyes—gratitude, maybe, or something deeper, something unsaid. For a moment, you thought he might open up further, let you in just a little more. But instead, he nodded, offering you a tight smile that didn’t quite mask the exhaustion behind his eyes.

“Thanks for the cake,” he murmured, the word heavy with meaning, but it felt like a conversation he wasn’t ready to continue. “You can now add me to the list of your fans,” he tried to joke. And that was how it ended that day. A polite smile, a brief exchange, and a shared piece of chocolate cake.

But it had been the start of something—an awareness, perhaps—that had lodged itself in your mind since.

‧───────────────

It was the end of the school day, and you stood at the doorway of the classroom, waving goodbye to your students as they rushed out, eager to meet their parents. The air was filled with the excited chatter of children, their laughter carrying through the schoolyard as they bounded toward the gates, already discussing what they would do once they got home—playing, watching cartoons, or just relaxing after a long day.

You smiled, watching them, a familiar warmth settling in your chest. These moments, seeing the kids so happy and carefree, were some of your favourites. But as the crowd of parents thinned and the rush of students began to dwindle, your eyes fell on one child still waiting, standing a little apart from the rest.

Laura.

She was fidgeting with the sleeve of her pink shirt, her eyes darting around as she glanced at the gate, waiting for someone who hadn’t yet arrived. You felt a small pang in your chest, noticing how her usually bright demeanour was tinged with a quiet sort of patience.

She wasn’t upset, not yet, but you could tell she was starting to wonder where he was.

You walked over to her, your steps soft against the pavement. Kneeling down next to her, you offered her a gentle smile, hoping to ease the unease you sensed in her small frame. “Hey, Laura,” you said quietly, “Don’t worry, your dad will be here soon. I’ll wait with you until he comes, okay? So you don’t have to worry.”

Laura looked up at you, her wide eyes filled with an innocence that tugged at your heartstrings. She nodded, though her fingers still played nervously with her sleeve. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice small but trusting.

You sat down on the bench next to her, offering her a comforting presence. The schoolyard was almost empty now, save for a few stragglers who were still being picked up. You glanced toward the gate, hoping to see James approaching, but there was no sign of him yet.

The two of you sat in a peaceful silence for a moment, and you couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of protectiveness toward the little girl beside you. You had always cared for your students, of course, but with Laura… it felt different. There was something about her that drew you in, something about her quiet resilience and the way she tried so hard to be brave.

You glanced at her again, noticing how she was now staring at the ground, still fiddling with her sleeve. “You know,” you said gently, trying to distract her, “you were amazing in class today. I think you’re going to be a star at our next reading session.”

Laura looked up at you, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. “Really?”

“Really,” you nodded, your tone full of warmth. “You’ve come so far, Laura. You should be proud of yourself.”

Her smile widened just a little, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you. At least for now, she seemed more at ease, even if only for a moment. Still, your gaze flickered back to the gate, and you silently hoped James would arrive soon. You knew how much Laura looked up to him, how much she counted on him, and you didn’t want her to start worrying that he wouldn’t come.

Even so, you would wait with her for as long as it took.

As the minutes passed, Laura’s hands fidgeted more restlessly with her sleeve, her small brow furrowing with an expression far too serious for her age. She glanced up at you and then back at the ground, her lips pressing together as if she was holding something in.

“Is everything okay?” you asked gently, leaning a bit closer to her.

Laura hesitated, biting her lip before she spoke. “I... I’m not sure,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... James has been really tired lately. He doesn’t smile anymore—well, even less than usual. And sometimes...” Her voice trailed off, her fingers gripping her sleeve tightly.

You could sense the worry radiating from her, and it tugged at your heart. You leaned in a little closer, your voice soft and reassuring. “Sometimes what, Laura?”

She hesitated again, her eyes flicking up to yours before darting away. She seemed on the verge of saying something more, something important, but just as the words were about to spill out, the sound of hurried footsteps caught both of your attention.

James.

He rushed through the gate, his face flushed and his breath coming in heavy pants. His tie was slightly askew, his khaki jacket over his broad shoulders, and you could tell from the sheen of sweat on his brow that he had run all the way from wherever he had been. His gaze immediately locked onto Laura, and the relief in his eyes was palpable.

“Laura... I’m so sorry I’m late,” he said, his voice breathless but filled with concern. He bent down to her level, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Work ran later than I expected, but I’m here now.”

Laura’s face brightened instantly at the sight of him. Whatever worries she had moments ago seemed to melt away as she launched herself into his arms. “It’s okay, James. I knew you’d come. Y/n kept me company.”

James held her tightly for a moment, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath, seemingly trying to steady himself. Then he stood up, his gaze shifting to you. There was an apology in his expression, a look of regret for being late. “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,” he said, still catching his breath. “I rushed over as fast as I could.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “No need to apologise. We’re just glad you made it.”

For a moment, as James straightened his posture, you could see the fatigue lingering in his eyes—deeper than just physical tiredness. It was the kind of weariness that came from something more, something that ran deeper than a late night or a long day at work.

You smiled politely, already anticipating that James would soon make his usual excuses to leave as soon as possible and head home with Laura. But to your surprise, he lingered for a moment longer, his gaze shifting from Laura to you, a look of contemplation on his face. There was something different about him today—something new.

“Miss...” he began, but before he could finish, you couldn’t help but giggle, waving him off playfully. “Oh gosh— It makes me feel so formal and old, how many times have I insisted you call me by my name?” You teased lightly, hoping to break the ice that often felt a little too thick between you two.

James’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of amusement dancing in his deep-set eyes. “I suppose it’s hard to shake old habits,” he replied, a half-smile playing on his lips as if he were sharing an inside joke with himself. You watched as he took a moment to consider his words, his brow furrowing slightly as he grappled with the shift in the dynamic between you.

“But... Y/n,” he finally said, his voice almost hesitant, as if he were testing the waters.

The way he spoke your name was slow and deliberate, as if each syllable was a treasure he was unearthing. The warmth of his voice wrapped around you, and the moment felt electric. The air thickened with an intimacy you hadn’t expected, leaving you momentarily breathless.

You felt your heart skip a beat as a rush of warmth flooded your cheeks, your breath hitching slightly in your throat. Suddenly, the space between you seemed to shrink, and the innocent and fleeting conversations you typically shared transformed into something more profound, more intimate.

“Y/n,” he repeated, this time almost to himself, as if he were savouring the taste of it.

The sound of your name rolling off his tongue sent a flutter through you, igniting a mixture of excitement and shyness that caught you off guard. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something new and uncharted, and the thrill of it both exhilarated and terrified you.

“I—uh, right... well, it’s nice to be called by my name, that’s all,” you stammered, attempting to regain your composure. The heat of embarrassment crept up your neck, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest, a drumbeat that seemed to echo in the stillness between you.

James chuckled softly, the sound warm and inviting, breaking the momentary tension. “I’ll make an effort to remember,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice struck a chord deep within you. You could sense the vulnerability in his words, a hint that perhaps he was allowing himself to be more open, more human.

The moment lingered, stretching into a comfortable silence as you both absorbed what had just transpired. You could sense a connection crackling in the air, a magnetic pull that made your skin tingle and your heart flutter. Laura, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around her, stood between you, still clutching her father’s hand, her wide eyes darting back and forth between the two of you, momentarily aback by the interactions.

“James, can we go home now?” Laura chirped, her voice cutting through the quiet. “I want to play with my dolls!”

James jolted, as if he was coming out of a trance and looked down at her, his expression softening as he nodded. “Of course, sweetie. Let’s go home.” But then he turned back to you, an earnestness in his gaze. “I appreciate you looking out for her.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and your heart swelled with a mix of pride and gratitude. “Thank you, Mr. Sunderland. It’s a joy,” you replied, a smile spreading across your face. You were grateful for the opportunity to teach such a bright and spirited child, but it felt like more than just a job.

It was a chance to make a difference, even in small ways.

As the three of you stood there, the afternoon sun casting a warm glow around you, you felt a sense of connection deepening—a bond that was slowly beginning to form amidst the complexities of life. But just as quickly as it had come, the moment slipped away as Laura tugged at her father’s hand, eager to be on her way.

“Come on, James!” she urged, her excitement palpable. “Let’s go!”

With a final shared smile, James turned to leave, his hand wrapped securely around Laura’s. But, just as James was about to turn and leave, he hesitated for a moment, glancing back at you with a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “Oh, and… it’s only fair that you can call me James,” he added in a rushed voice, as if the words were tumbling out before he could stop them.

The casualness of the remark hung in the air, but the weight of it landed heavily on your chest. You stood there, momentarily shocked, your mind racing to comprehend what he had just said. The simple invitation felt monumental. You could see the apprehension in his expression, as if he were dreading your reaction, almost afraid of the implications his words might hold.

He turned back to Laura, who was practically bouncing on her toes with excitement, and as he walked away, you felt a strange mix of exhilaration and longing. The distance between you began to stretch, but in that moment, all you could focus on was the sudden intimacy in that one little request.

“James,” you whispered, the name rolling off your tongue for the first time, almost shyly.

But he was already walking away, his back to you, and the sound of his gentle voice echoed in your ears. You could almost see the tension in his shoulders as he hurried to catch up with Laura, leaving you standing there in the golden glow of the setting sun. For a fleeting moment, you wished he could hear you, that your voice could reach him just a little further. But the name lingered in your mind, and you knew this was more than just a name.

As they disappeared from sight, you found yourself smiling, a warm flutter igniting within you. You could hardly believe that you had spoken his name, and yet it felt right. James.

Just James.

‧───────────────

A couple of days had passed since that moment, and you found yourself standing outside the school as the last of the children filtered out, giggling and chattering excitedly about their plans for the evening. The air was warm, filled with the sweet scent of the last remnant of the flowers, yet your thoughts were completely consumed by James.

As he approached, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. His blue-gray eyes had a captivating quality that seemed to pull you in, as if they held secrets and stories you longed to uncover. They were gentle and soft, yet haunted, a hint of sadness always lurking just beneath the surface. You had come to notice this subtle dichotomy in him—the warmth of his smile contrasted with the weight he carried in his gaze.

Since your last interaction, James had consistently arrived at school on time, much to your surprise. He had also begun to linger after school, initiating unusual and trivial conversations. And each time he approached, you felt the world around you fade, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of shared moments and unspoken words.

“Hey, you,” he greeted, a genuine smile lighting up his face as he stepped closer. The way he said it made you feel like you were the only person in the universe, and it took every ounce of your professionalism not to melt under his gaze. “How was your day?”

“Pretty standard,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just the usual chaos with the kids. You know how it is.” You chuckled lightly, but inside, your heart raced, fighting the blooming flush on your cheeks.

His smile widened, revealing a glimpse of warmth that made your stomach flip. “They can be a handful, can’t they?” He leaned slightly against the brick wall, his body language relaxed yet intent, as if he was genuinely interested in your thoughts.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” you said, your voice tinged with sincerity. “They bring so much joy, even when they’re a bit much to handle.”

James nodded, his expression contemplative, and for a moment, you felt an intimacy forming between you. It was strange, this connection, as if you were bound by an invisible thread that pulled you closer together, even as you knew the rules that separated you.

“Laura seems to really enjoy her time in class,” you mentioned, hoping to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

He chuckled softly, but there was an edge of vulnerability in his tone. “She does. I think she’s found her place here.”

You glanced down, fidgeting with your hands, trying to quell the flutter of anticipation that filled the air. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s important for her to feel comfortable.”

James’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’ve made a difference for her,” he said, sincerity lacing his words. “I can’t thank you enough for that.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a wave of warmth through you, igniting a mixture of pride and embarrassment. “I’m just doing my job, really,” you replied, though the way he looked at you made you feel anything but ordinary.

“I don’t think you realise how special you are,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a heartbeat, you felt suspended in time, caught in the gravity of his words. But then reality hit you, a reminder of the boundaries that loomed between you. He was a parent, and you were a teacher.

Yet, as he lingered there, the air thick with unspoken possibilities, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, the rules could bend a little in this moment. The thought both exhilarated and terrified you. You took a breath, willing yourself to maintain your composure, yet secretly wishing that this conversation could stretch into the endless horizon of what-ifs that danced in your mind.

As the silence settled between you, James straightened up, a look of determination crossing his features that made your heart sink slightly. His expression turned serious, the warmth that had lingered just moments ago fading into something more guarded. With a deep sigh, he seemed to gather himself before speaking, the weight of his words evident in the way he shifted his stance.

“Um, could I have your number?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with an urgency that caught you off guard.

You stilled, your breath hitching in your throat. The unexpected request sent a rush of warmth flooding your cheeks, and for a moment, you felt entirely unmoored, caught in a tide of surprise and delight. Was he really asking for your number? The notion was thrilling yet terrifying, sending your mind racing with possibilities.

James must have noticed the startled look on your face because, almost immediately, his demeanour shifted again. Realising how his words might be interpreted, he quickly added, “I mean, it’s just in case I need your help—like you offered before, with Laura or school stuff.”

The clarification hung between you, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and a slight tinge of disappointment. Part of you had dared to hope that this moment was more than just professional courtesy, but as the reality settled in, you pushed that thought aside, telling yourself to focus on the task at hand.

“Of course! That makes total sense,” you managed to reply, your voice slightly breathless. “I’d be more than happy to help with anything you need.”

With a mix of excitement and nerves coursing through you, you fumbled for your phone, your fingers trembling slightly as you unlocked it. This felt surreal—exchanging numbers with James, standing so close to him, the air thick with unsaid words and lingering glances. You dared to meet his gaze again, and for a brief moment, you lost yourself in the depths of his blue-grey eyes, which seemed to flicker with both anxiety and something deeper.

As you typed in your number, a playful thought crossed your mind, and you decided to break the tension. “Just so you know,” you said, glancing up at him with a teasing smile, “I’m not available for cake emergencies or anything.”

James chuckled softly, the sound bringing warmth back into the cool air that surrounded you. “Noted. I’ll keep my cake emergencies to a minimum, then.”

The lightness of the moment felt almost intoxicating, and as you handed your phone back to him, your fingers brushed against his skin. The contact sent a jolt through you, a spark of electricity that made your heart race anew. It was such a simple gesture, yet it felt charged with an intimacy that caught you both off guard.

In that brief moment of contact, you instinctively placed your hand over his arm, a reassuring gesture meant to bridge the gap between you. The warmth of his skin was intoxicating, and you felt him flinch ever so slightly under your touch, as if your hand had ignited something deep within him.

His eyes widened for a split second, the guarded look momentarily replaced by surprise. “Thanks,” he said, his tone sincere as he accepted your phone, but there was a subtle shift in his expression, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability that made your heart flutter.

“I really appreciate it,” he continued, his gaze locking onto yours, and for a heartbeat, it felt as if the world around you had vanished, leaving just the two of you standing in the schoolyard, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. With a final glance, James stepped back, his expression a mix of gratitude and apprehension. “I should get going,” he said, his voice a little softer now, almost hesitant. “Thanks again for everything.”

‧───────────────

James sat on the edge of his bed, the soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminating the worn pages of his journal. His hand hovered over the paper, as if hesitating to commit his thoughts to words. Outside, the October air had settled into a biting chill, the kind that always stirred uneasy memories. The crisp wind rattled against the windows, and James found himself drawn back to dark times, moments when the world had felt as cold and unforgiving as the night closing in around him now.

He pressed the pen down, scratching out his thoughts with deliberate care, almost as if the act of writing might exorcise the ghosts of his past.

Date: [XX/10/1993]

The air is changing. That sharp bite... it reminds me of those days, the ones I wish I could forget. That hollow feeling creeping in, like the cold. I keep trying to push it away, keep myself in the present. Focus on what matters.

He paused, tapping the pen against the paper, as though searching for the next words. His thoughts inevitably drifted, not to the past he so desperately wanted to escape, but to something—or rather, someone—new.

But lately... lately, there’s been a kind of warmth. Like I’ve found the sun again. It's dangerous, though. I know it is. It has to be about Laura. She's the reason I’m here. She's my only focus. But when I see her... when I see Y/n...

He paused again, his jaw tightening as he tried to push down the surge of feelings rising up in his chest. Y/n, your warmth, your presence—it was getting harder to ignore, harder to suppress the way his heart sped up when their conversations lingered just a little longer than they should.

I try to keep the conversation about Laura. I need to keep it about her. She’s Y/n's student, my daughter, and that’s all there is to it. That’s how it should be. It’s enough, it has to be. But I catch myself wanting more. And that scares the hell out of me. But I can’t help it. I find myself lingering after our conversations, craving the moments we talk about anything else—about the weather, about life, about her smile. God, her smile...

His hand trembled slightly as he wrote, the words spilling out onto the page with a sense of urgency, like he was afraid of admitting them even to himself.

There’s something about her. I see it in her smile, in the way she talks to Laura, the way she looks at me sometimes. She’s young, full of life and warmth, and I... I’m not that. I haven’t been that in a long time. She deserves better. Deserves more than someone who can’t escape his past—a murderer.

James exhaled shakily, running a hand through his ashe blonde hair. The darkness of the room felt oppressive now, mirroring the darkness in his thoughts.

I should stop. I need to stop. I can’t let myself think this way. Not about her. Not when she’s...

He trailed off, his hand going still as he stared at the half-finished sentence, the weight of the unsaid words heavy in the air. The journal felt like a confessional, a place where he could let out the thoughts he would never say aloud.

And yet, it offered no relief. No absolution.

She’s kind. She’s patient. She’s pretty. She’s good. Too good for me. I need to remember that. I have to stop before I ruin everything. I shouldn't want her. I shouldn't feel this way. But God, the way she looks at me, the way she smiles... it makes me weak. Makes me want things I have no right to want.

Makes me feel things I've tried to bury deep inside.

But even as he wrote the words, a part of him resisted, fighting the notion of letting go of that warmth, of her. With a sigh, James closed the journal, his chest tightening with the familiar ache of guilt. He set it aside, staring at the ceiling, haunted by both his memories and the new feelings he couldn’t quite bring himself to fully acknowledge.

Sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight—not with your name still lingering in the corners of his mind.

As James lay there, staring at the ceiling, the image of your face flickered in his mind, your warm smile and kind eyes filling his thoughts. The more he tried to push you away, the more you seemed to consume him, your presence a constant ache in his chest. He shifted restlessly, the sheets tangling around his legs as a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. His body grew hot, his skin prickling with a need he couldn't ignore.

James closed his eyes, his breath coming faster as he pictured the gentle curves of your body that he longed to explore, straddling him, your hips rolling against his as you rode him. He could almost feel the heat of your core, the way your walls would clench around him as he thrust deep inside you. A moan escaped his lips, low and needy, as his hand drifted down to his growing arousal. He stroked himself through his pyjama bottoms, the friction of the fabric only adding to his growing desperation.

‘I'm sorry, Mary,’ he thought, even as he pushed his pants down, freeing his aching cock. ‘I'm so sorry. But I need this. I need to feel something, anything, besides this endless grief.’

James wrapped his hand around his shaft, the touch sending sparks of pleasure through his body. He imagined it was Y/n's hand, your slender fingers wrapped around him, guiding him to ecstasy.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hand moving faster, the sound of his skin slapping against his arousal echoing in the silent room. He knew it was wrong, knew he should stop, but the need consuming him was too strong to resist. In his mind, you were on top of him, your hips grinding against his, your breasts bouncing as you rode him with wild abandon. He would grab your hips, pulling you down harder, burying himself deep inside your warmth.

"Oh god, Y/n!" he cried out, his body tensing as he neared his peak. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" The words tumbled from his lips, a desperate plea for forgiveness as much as a prayer of ecstasy.

As he stroked himself faster, harder, the guilt began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of urgency. His hips bucked into his hand, his breathing ragged as he chased his release. With a final, strangled cry, James came, his seed spurting across his stomach and chest. The pleasure crashed over him in waves, washing away the pain and sorrow, if only for a moment.

In the aftermath, as his chest heaved with laboured breaths, James felt a twinge of shame. As the haze of pleasure faded, the reality of what he had done crashed down upon him. Tears welled in his eyes, and he curled in on himself, his shame overwhelming him once again.

"I'm a monster," he whispered, his voice broken.

James lay there, paralyzed by his own shame and revulsion. The sticky warmth of his seed coating his skin served as a stark reminder of his weakness, of the depth of his depravity. He couldn't escape the images of Y/n that haunted his mind, the memories of their interactions intertwining with the twisted fantasies he had just indulged in.

With a trembling hand, he reached for the box of tissues on his nightstand, cleaning himself up as quickly as possible—as if he was cleaning a crime scene. He wanted to scream, to lash out at the world that had led him to this point, but he knew it was futile. There was no one to blame but himself, no one to shoulder the burden of his sins.

As he lay there, listening to the distant sounds of the city beyond his window, James felt a sudden urge to purge himself of the poison that consumed him. He needed to cleanse his soul, to rid himself of the taint of his desire.

With a determined grimace, he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He turned the faucet on full blast, the cold water spraying him in the face like a baptismal rebirth. He scrubbed his skin raw, watching his cum as the water swirl down the drain, carrying away the evidence of his transgressions.

James stood there, a broken shell of a man, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. He wanted to scrub himself clean, to remove every trace of her from his being, but he knew it was futile. For the first time, he had crossed that line, had given in to the darkest recesses of his mind. And it had felt...good.

"I'm sorry, Mary," he whispered, his voice raw and hollow. "I'm so sorry. I don't know how to stop this."

But even as the words left his lips, he knew they were empty. He didn't want to stop, didn't want to deny himself the fleeting moments of ecstasy that Y/n brought him. He was a monster, a depraved creature.

After his shower, James sat on the edge of his bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long, twisted shadows across the room, his journal open once again in his lap. His hand hovered over the page, trembling, knowing exactly what he needed to write but dreading it.

His hand stilled. How had it come to this? He had never expected to feel this pull, this temptation toward someone, toward you. He had tried so hard to be good, to keep things professional, but you had stirred something deep inside him—something he couldn’t control.

Y/n.

Your namelay there on the page, staring back at him like a secret he could no longer hide.

I’ve already tried to relieve myself with thoughts of her… it’s not new. I’ve always been weak to her. The way she smiles, the way she speaks, her kindness. It’s all too much. I’m too weak. But this time…

James exhaled, his chest tightening. This time had been different. This time, he had given in completely, no longer just a fleeting thought or stolen glance. For the first time, he had let you take over his mind entirely, and the release had been overwhelming. It had been the first time in years—since Mary—that he’d allowed himself to finish with someone else in his thoughts.

For the first time, it wasn’t Mary I thought of when I—

He stopped, unable to bring himself to put it into words. But the truth lingered, pressing down on him. For the first time, it had been you.

His grip on the pen tightened, the shame gnawing at him. He had crossed a line—one he never thought he would cross again. But the worst part? The part that made his skin crawl?

It felt good.

For the first time, I let myself think of someone else, and it felt...good.

His breath hitched, a wave of guilt washing over him, followed by something darker. He closed the journal with a sudden snap, his chest heaving, his heart pounding in his ears. Tossing it onto the bedside table, James leaned back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push away the thoughts of you that flooded his mind.

I should stop. I need to stop.

But he couldn’t. He was trapped, caught between the past he couldn’t escape and the future he shouldn’t want.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, though this time, it was barely more than a breath. He wasn’t sure if the apology was meant for Mary or for himself.

He closed his eyes, Mary’s name on his lips, but as his mind drifted, it wasn’t her face he saw.

It was yours.

#silent hill #silent hill 2 #silent hill 2 remake #silent hill james sunderland x reader #james sunderland #james sunderland x reader #smut #james sunderland/reader #x reader #female reader

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cloudiewrites · 11 months ago

Note

OMG. Hiiii. I love Tom Riddle and Theodore Nott. So I am totally going to ask you if you are comfortable to write either Professor Tom or a Professor Theo x fem reader fic with smut. Feel free to ignore this but I really struggle to find Professor Tom fics and Idk how to write them 😅

Professor Tom Riddle x f!reader

Warnings: strong language, toxic behaviour, manipulation, SMUT reader is a student in the beginning (still over 18!), reader becomes a little bit unhinged towards the middle (who wouldn't after meeting TR?) 18+MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Author's Note: Wow, this took me ages to post! I was having a break from this blog due to my exams, but I promise I will be more active from now on. Also, this is actually my first smut! (Idk how to write them either, so I do hope you like it.) I tried to build some plot into it, so it is not just filthy p*rn, haha. Thank you so much for your request! <3

There are moments that change your life. Moments when you realise you will never be the same and your whole existence is divided into two parts - before this, and after this.

For you, this moment was meeting Tom Riddle.

The memories of that rainy day when your gazes crossed for the first time continue to haunt your thoughts almost every second of your existence. And no matter how hard you try to forget, they become more and more vivid. Sometimes you wonder if you are actually reliving it or if it is just a fruit of your imagination.

The rain was so cold that day, that your whole body was shivering under your soaking clothes. You were running across the courtyard, trying to get inside as soon as possible. Both of your hands were clutching your bag on top of your head, trying to prevent the water from getting into your eyes. You were almost at the door when your body collided with someone, and you lost your balance falling into a muddy puddle.

You looked up, ready to give a piece of your mind to whoever made you end up like this, but your words got stuck in your throat the moment your gaze crossed his.

Eyes as dark as the night. Skin as pale as the moonlight. Hair falling in elegant curls on top of the most beautiful face you have ever seen. He silently offered you his hand, before he took off his jacket and wrap it around your trembling figure.

"Are you alright?", he asked. His voice was smooth like honey, yet deep. You couldn't do anything else other than slowly nod before your cheeks turned a light shade of red. He offered you a small smirk, before guiding you inside the castle. No words were exchanged between you after that.

Looking back, you are sure that this was the moment that changed your life.

You didn't know who he was at first. He looked so young, that it was natural to assume he was your age. You have not seen him before, so he must be a transfer student, just like you were a year ago. "He did not wear a robe, so he must not been sorted yet", you said to your friends later that day and they just shook their heads. No one has heard of any transferring students this year, yet here you were claiming you have seen in the flesh the man of your dreams.

And you were almost convinced you were dreaming a few days later when you found yourself sitting in the back of the class, while he was neatly writing his name on the black board.

Professor Riddle.

"As your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I would like to establish a few ground rules right now", his voice was calm but dominant, "Always come prepared. I do not tolerate lazy students. No talking during class. No questions during lessons. If there is anything you do not understand, you can either conduct your own research in the library or visit one of my additional sessions every third Friday of the month."

Unlike you, the majority of the students have already heard of Tom and some even knew him personally, as he graduated just a few years ago. They carefully listened to all his rules, noting everything they should do to stay on his good side. No matter the house, the respect and fear felt towards Tom was felt by all students. You would lie if you said that this did not include you.

Yet in two weeks time during his first Friday session, you found yourself leaning over your notebook, while Tom was calmly explaining the lesson material to you. You were nodding your head, not paying even a little bit of attention to what he was saying. All you could focus on was the sound of his voice and the tingles that covered your whole body every time he lifted his eyes to your face, checking if were actually following.

"I am curious, miss, for the real purpose of your visit today", he said once you started packing your bag. You immediately froze in place, cold sweat forming on the back of your neck. Your trembling hands closed your bag before you turned to him with a tight-lipped smile.

"I am not sure I understand what you mean, professor."

He offered you a small smile, before grabbing his coat and briefcase and making his way towards you. Stopping just a step away from you, he lifted his hands toward your neck, making you gulp. You stood still, expecting him to wrap his hand around your throat, while his eyes burned into yours. His long fingers inched closer and closer to your skin, before wrapping around your tie and adjusting it so it could be centred.

"I am a patient and understanding man, miss", he said, his hand resting on the piece of cloth for a few more seconds, before moving away, "But I am no fool."

And you knew his words to be true. Because if there was a fool here, that was you. You knew it was wrong to pursue the foolish feelings that started to blossom in your chest. Despite the age difference being only a few years, falling for a professor was never a good idea. But how could you stop yourself when every time his eyes laid upon you there was a feeling of longing behind them? The small touches on your arms, every time he tried to explain to you the parts of the textbook you claimed "not to understand", the way his lips curved in a small smirk every time you volunteered to help during demonstrations in class, the way his gaze darkened that time he saw your friend's arms wrapped around your shoulders during dinner...

He may have thought he was subtle, but you knew there was some part of him that desired you as much as you did.

"What do you think of me, professor?", you asked one day, while sitting on the desk, arranging papers. As you were the only student who showed any interest in DADA sessions outside the scheduled classes, Tom moved the Friday meetings to his private office. They also started to happen every week, rather than once per month. And often, you were helping him with work, rather the other way around. "Why?", his gaze lifted from the papers he was grading, eyebrows furrowing in suspicion. He laid his pen down, crossing his arms in front of his chest and resting his body back on his chair. You sat next to him on a smaller wooden chair, but your hands did not stop arranging the graded exams, and neither did your focus move from them.

"I am...", you took a deep breath, thinking how to phrase your explanation, "Curious, I guess."

Tom watched you with interest, noting the way that your voice trembled in the beginning. Looking up at your face, his eyes trailed every single one of your features, before stopping at your lips.

"You are a good student", he finally said, his tone flat. Your shoulders immediately slumped and you let out a quiet "Oh.", your fingers now pressing the tower of papers on its sides to make sure it is stable. The silence between you grew longer as you tried your best to hide the disappointment you felt from his answer. Tom, on the other hand, was still staring at your face, trying to read your emotions based on your pursed lips and furrowed brows.

"All finished. I think it is better if I go", you finally said, unable to sit in his presence anymore. You stood up, ready to grab your bag from the floor, when cold fingers wrapped themselves around your wrist halting you in place. Tom stood up from his chair, moving behind you. Laying his free hand on the side of your waist, he leaned towards you, nose just a few inches from your hair. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume, and let out a low groan.

"What I really think...", he murmured, the fingers on your waist digging into your flesh, "is not something I shall voice out loud. The thoughts that flood my mind every time I see you are too..."

Your breath hitched.

"Too?"

"Sinful", you felt his breath on the back of your ear and your body involuntarily shivered. Before you could think of an answer, his hands left your body and he took a step back. You turned around, eager to close the distance again, but were stopped by him grabbing your shoulder and gently pushing you away.

"Do not", he warned, "do not make this harder for both of us."

"But I-"

"I think it is best if you leave."

You gulped. And the first time your eyes did not cast down in shame - instead you held his gaze, your expression hardening.

"You cannot do this to me", your voice trembled, "Toying with my feelings , then pushing me away."

He raised his brow and his hand fell from your shoulder. You stood in place, not making any attempts to get closer.

"I did not do such thing", his voice sounded low and dark, his eyes suddenly turning colder, "In fact, I am telling you now... Whatever hope you hold in your heart about anything happening between us, you should kill it now."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said", he interrupted you impatiently, "And I mean it. But whatever affection I have towards you does not change the fact you are my student."

Your fingers wrapped around the edge of your skirt and you clenched your jaw, moving your gaze towards the door. The rational part of your brain was telling you to just grab your bag and dash through the door. The other part, the one led by your heart, was screaming at you to stay and confront him. It did not take you long to decide which one to listen to.

"Why does it matter?", you snapped, "I am an adult already. And you are only a few years older. It is not illegal or anything!"

Tom let out an annoyed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, before running his fingers through his dark curls. He turned around and walked around the desk, before slamming his hands on the hard surface.

"Merlin, you just do not understand!", his voice was full with irritation, "I can not lose my job. I can not lose everything I have worked for!"

"We can hide it", you protested, gluing yourself to his side and gripping his bicep, "Only for a few months! Only till I graduate!"

The man tore your hands away from his arm, cupping them in his palms instead. He tilted his head, searching your eyes, which were now starting to form tears of stress and frustration.

His face suddenly relaxed. The air between you felt lighter and a new spark of hope started to burn inside of you. His finger made its way to your cheek and wiped one of the tears that started to trail down your skin.

"Is it not curious, how weak love makes a man?", his finger trailed down to your jaw, before cupping it, "And no spell in this world is strong enough to save a man that has already fallen."

Your head instinctively leaned towards his hand and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of warmth of his skin on yours. If you could only freeze time, you would stay in this moment forever.

"I don't want to be saved", you murmured and despite not being able to see him, you could feel the small smile that grazed his lips once you said it. You freed your hands from his and wrapped them around his torso, burying your head in his chest. It took a few seconds for him to embrace your body, resting his chin on the top of your head.

And if you could only see the satisfied smirk and cold gaze on Tom's face, you would have known how true his words are. There is no spell in this world that could save you not that you have already fallen...

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You can't say exactly when the dream had turned into a nightmare.

Private sessions became everyday afternoon meetings, where you talked about different random topics. Tom never opened up about his past, even his Hogwarts years. On the other hand, he was a good listener and without you realising it, he managed to unravel your whole family history just within a week.

His silent nature did not bother you, however. You finally had someone who listened to you. You slowly started to detach from your friends, excusing your unnatural behaviour on all the extra academic work you were taking. They were worried, but every time they tried to voice their concerns, you rolled your eyes, before running to Tom to tell him about their words. "They are just jealous of you, my dear, " he would always chuckle, gently stroking your cheek, "because you found what they would keep searching for a long, long time."

Soon, he was the only person you really trusted. And he claimed he felt the same.

This is why he couldn't ask anyone else to sneak into the Headmaster's office and get the little leather diary in one of his desk drawers. This is also why you had to find a way to get the books he was interested in from the restricted section without getting caught. This is also why you had to lure the naive fifth-year Hufflepuff into the Chamber of Secrets and leave her there.

There was simply no one else whom he trusted to do these tasks. And you gladly completed each of his requests without question, doing everything in your power to keep him happy.

But soon this was not enough. And once you graduated all the promises he made to you broke into thousand little pieces, which were discarded into thin air.

"I don't need you anymore", his cold voice said, his eyes glued to the papers in front of him, "You can leave. Make sure you close the door."

Without sparing you even a glance, he grabbed the pile of papers and left for class, leaving you to gather your thoughts and pieces of your heart by yourself.

What did you do wrong? Why did he change so suddenly? Was it all a lie?

These questions continued to poison your mind for the next few years, while you tried to rebuild yourself. You did not realise how dependent you were on him, till you were left on your own. The weight of all the unsaid feelings within you was forcing you onto your knees, making you unable to get up and continue with your life.

And this is how two years after your graduation you found your way back to Hogwarts. The place where it all began...

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The wooden clock on the wall was ticking dangerously close to midnight when Tom finally got to his office. The teacher's gathering has been prolonged unnecessarily due to Dumbledore's ramblings and him finding problems where there are none. The amount of control the young professor has exercised to endure this long meeting has left him completely drained of energy, but he knew he still had to do some research about the Founders' Relics. After so many years he was finally getting close to achieving his goal and he was ready to sacrifice as many nights of sleep as necessary.

He knew something was not right the moment he opened the door. The lights were still off and everything seemed to be in the exact place he left it... but there was just the faintest sound of someone breathing which made him immediately reach for his wand.

"Ah, look who finally came", your giggle reached his ears before he saw you turning on his chair, fingers moving towards the small lamp on his desk, "Terribly rude of you to make me wait this long."

Tom's lips pressed into a thin line and his grip around his wand tightened. He traced his eyes over the visible parts of your body, noting the little changes that had occurred since he last saw you.

Your hair, which was usually neatly combed and put in a bun, was now in a messy braid, the front pieces framing your face. Your lips, which usually curved in a shy smile, were now forming an arrogant, almost sinister smirk. Your eyes, which have always looked up to him full of admiration, were now staring down at him with a glint of insanity.

"Get out", he commanded, striding towards you with his wand pointed towards your head.

Your raised your eyebrows and your mouth shaped an "o" in a mock horror, before you reached for your own wand, pointing it back at him.

"Now that is not a way to welcome your ex-lover, is it?", your eyes squint.

Tom scoffed at your words, stopping at the edge of his desk, before his expression hardened.

"You were never my lover", he stated, his head tilting to the side, "And I thought I was extremely clear when I said last time I saw you that you are not welcome here."

You hummed, eyes moving to the ceiling. Still holding your wand towards him, you relaxed further into his chair, lifting your legs onto his desk. With a curious gaze, you followed the stone patterns of the walls around the room, while scrunching your face in disgust.

"3 years, Tom", you finally said, landing your attention back on him, "3 years you have been here and your office is as bland as it was when you first came here. It brings my mood down, you know? It's so grey!"

"You can leave then", Tom hissed through his teeth, making a few more steps till he stayed right in front of you. The tip of his wand rested under your chin and he pulled it upwards, making you look up, "I am giving you exactly a minute to leave, before I take your life."

A loud giggle left your lips and you pressed your neck further into his wand.

"How generous!"

"45 seconds."

You gently put your own wand back into your pocket, not moving your eyes from his. Tilting your head, your mouth formed a wide smile.

"Okay."

His brows shot in confusion, his jaw clenching. You could see his on the wand became tighter, his knuckles almost white.

"Okay?"

"Do it", you shrug your shoulders, "My ghost will be eager to see how are you going to explain why your new assistant went missing after coming to your office to drop a list of all the students that are going to be in your... our class this year."

Before you know it, his free hand flew to your face and gripped your face. His fingers dig into your jaw, lifting it dangerously close to his face.

"My assistant?", he let out a dry chuckle, "Good try, dear. And a terrible way to waste that minute I gave you."

With lips already starting to form the words of the deadliest spell, his fingers dug deeper into your face, before his eyes landed on the sparkling object in your palms. The unforgivable words quickly died in his throat and he withdrew his wand, stumbling back. Eyes full of anger met yours, who in contrast were sparkling with playfulness.

"How did you get that?", he demanded, reaching towards the object, but you pulled it back, before laying it on your head. Putting your elbows on his desk, you fluttered your eyelashes, smiling brightly.

"Do you think it suits me?"

"Stop playing around."

"You are such a bore", you rolled your eyes, "I went on a holiday to Albania. And I found this gorgeous, gorgeous diadem, which turned out to be Rowena Ravenclaw's. What are the chances?"

Tom seemed unamused by your story, instead twitching his jaw. His eyes stayed glued to the diadem on your head, the reflection of the sapphire on it sparkling in his cold eyes.

"How did you know where it was?", his gaze moved towards you, his hand putting his wand back in his coat. His tall form moved towards you again, this time taking a seat on the empty surface of the desk in front of you. With a smile, you took the diadem out of your head, twirling it between your fingers.

"You don't think you were the only one who managed to charm the famous Helena Ravenclaw, do you?", you raised your eyebrow, moving your tongue across your top lip, "You underestimate the power of women's empathy and love for gossip, Tom."

He let out an airy laugh, running a hand through his thick curls. After two years, he hasn't changed anything about his appearance. His face, his haircut, and even the suits he wore were the exact same ones he already wore when you were a student. You would lie if you said you didn't enjoy it - that meant that the Tom you loved was still somewhere inside of him. Your Tom.

"I'm impressed", he finally said, moving his hands towards his knee and locking his fingers around it. His face dropped into a serious expression once again, "Give it to me."

You tilted your head, pursing your lips. Your eyes moved to the diadem, before landing back on him.

"Oh, I can't do that, Tom", you rested your palm on your chest, looking up at him with doe eyes, "He would be very disappointed if I don't bring it back to him."

Tom took a deep breath, his upper lip twitching.

"He?", he pressed his tongue to the side of his cheek, "Who is "he"?"

You twirled in his chair, pressing the diadem closer to your chest.

"My Lord, of course", you let out a giggle, resting your cheek on your shoulder and closing your eyes. You still managed to see the way Tom's body tensed, however.

"He sent his regards to you", you smiled, standing up, "If you hadn't left me that day, he wouldn't have met me and subsequently learned all about making horcruxes."

The man's eyes immediately darkened and his hand flew towards your wrist, stilling you in place.

"Name."

"Huh?"

"Tell me his name", Tom hissed, his nostrils flaring. You stepped closer to him, noses almost brushing.

"And why would I do that?", you raised your brows, your voice turning into a mocking laugh, "Do you think I would betray him... for you?"

The sudden feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you forward made you almost lose your balance and you grabbed his shoulder in reflex to keep you from falling on top of him. Nesting his head in the curve between your neck and shoulder, Tom pressed his lips next to your ear before muttering:

"You, my dear, are a liar", his teeth grazed the end of your earlobe, "And a very bad one."

Your whole body froze and you tried to push yourself away from him, but his arms were holding you firmly in place. Suddenly all the confidence you have displayed in his presence so far melted under the warmth of his touch, and you were left only with the hope you could still lie your way out of this situation.

"I am not lying", you protested with a quickening breath.

Tom lifted his head from your shoulder and rested his forehead on yours instead. His eyes stared deep into your own and his warm breath on your face made your whole body involuntarily tremble.

"I have already told you I am not a fool", one of his hands slid from your waist towards your arm and then hand, where you were still clutching the diadem. His fingers wrapped around it and pulled it out of your grasp with ease. Without looking at it, he placed it on the desk behind his back, before his hand found its way to the top of your head.

"I know you better than you know yourself, my dear", he muttered, his hand gently stroking your hair, "And I know there is no room in your heart for anyone but me. You would not be here otherwise."

He pulled back enough to be able to take a better look at your face. His gaze fell from your half-lidded eyes to your parted lips.

"You are mine. Always were, always will be."

A loud whine escaped your throat before it was swallowed by Tom's mouth on yours. His plump lips were chapped, a result of hours of his teeth sinking into them, trying to hold back all the snarky remarks he had for his fellow colleagues. The rough feeling made your knees buckle and you closed your eyes, relaxing fully in his arms.

Without breaking the kiss, he turned you around and with a swift move of his hand, pushed the diadem and a few books out of the way, before laying you on the cold surface. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging the soft curls.

A low growl left his lips and he lifted his lips from yours, a trail of saliva connecting them, before it was broken by his fingers cupping your chin.

"This is what you wanted, is it not?", his voice was suddenly deeper and darker, "For me to take you on the same desk I once you graded you."

His words made a loud moan to escape you and your back arched up, seeking nothing more than to be close to him. With a low chuckle, he pressed his palm between your breasts, pushing you flat on the furniture beneath you. You opened your mouth to complain but were quickly silenced once he pushed his index and middle fingers in your mouth, almost making you choke. Fixating your gaze on his, you closed your lips around them and started to suck, making sure to flatten your tongue in the process.

The image before your eyes was something you had dreamt of countless times before - Tom, with his messy curls and parted lips, panting while the fingers of his free hand were skilfully unbuttoning his vest. You did not waste any time in helping him, focusing on shakingly unbuttoning his belt.

"So impatient", he clicked his tongue, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth, so could remove his shirt. Once his torso was in full view, you did not hesitate even a second before you lifted yourself in a sitting position and attached your lips to his neck. Nibbling and sucking the smooth skin, you started to nibble and suck your way down to his chest. His head fell back and he closed his eyes, his muscles relaxing under you.

Tom Riddle may not be a man who was capable of love, but he was a man after all. And it would be a lie to say he has never thought of you in a more... erotic way. You have always been so obedient and good, doing everything for him without any hesitation. He has always found that incredibly attractive, but not enough for him to act on his desires.

Now, however, the sight of you has ignited some primal urges within him that he never felt before. Maybe it was the few drinks he had consumed prior at the gathering or maybe it was the idea of the the crazy lengths you were willing to go in order to get back to him...

Tom Riddle would probably never know the reason for him giving up control for the first time in his life. To you, nonetheless.

His mind came back to reality when he felt you pushing him on his chair and nestling yourself between his legs. Looking up at him, you tugged his pants and boxers down, letting his erection free. You let your index finger gently caress the length of it, making it twitch. A small giggle left your lips before you repeated the gesture.

"Stop teasing me", the man groaned, and his palm rested behind your head in order to push you towards his member, but you swiftly moved to the side dodging it. You squinted your eyes, moving your hands to his thighs and digging your nails into them.

"You", the word was hissed through your teeth, "are in no position to order me around."

Tom scoffed and was about to argue when your mouth unexpectedly wrapped around the head of his penis, twirling your tongue around it. He let out a choked gasp and he tried to put his hand on your head again before you smacked it away. Swallowing his pride, he rested both of his arms on the side of his chair, bucking his hip forward.

Carefully watching his reaction you wrapped your hand around him, slowly moving it down and back up again, following the movement of your mouth. The feeling of him filling your mouth was causing some saliva to start dripping your chin, but rather than pulling away, you pushed him further into your mouth till your nose was buried in his dark pubic hair. The feeling of his swollen head hitting the back of your throat made you gag, causing Tom to groan in pleasure.

"Fuck this", he muttered, before grabbing you by your hair and pulling your head up, before pressing it down again. His hips buckled in harmony with your head, making sure you were taking all of him. His dick was now coated in your saliva, making it glisten in the dim light. You closed your eyes, the lack of oxygen making them sting. The rapid pace with which he was moving was making it hard for you to breathe through your nose and you tried giving him a warning slap on his leg, which he purposefully ignored. Instead, he moved his other hand towards your chin and held your head still, while he continued to thrust his hips up and down. Sloppy wet noises filled his office, being interrupted only by his heavy breathing.

Your thighs clenched together in a weak attempt to relieve the burning ache between your legs. The way he was using your mouth to satisfy himself was making your underwear damp, yet you knew better than to touch yourself yet. After so many sleepless nights during which you tried to relieve yourself, imagining how would it feel to taste him, you wanted to focus all your attention only on him.

Feeling he was close, Tom finally pulled your head back and examined your face. Both saliva and tears were smeared all over your chin and your cheeks were flushed in rosy colour.

"What a pretty sight you are, my dear", he smiles, wiping some of it with his thumb. You licked your lips, getting up on your feet.

"And you are such a smooth talker", your face leaner just inches from his, "I wonder if you are as good with the action as you are with words."

Taking this as a challenge, he stood up and pushed you back onto the desk, before lifting your skirt. His fingers hooked under the elastic bands of your panties and with one tug they snapped, leaving you completely exposed in front of him.

Tom gulped, burning the image of your waiting arousal into his mind. His fingers made their way towards your slit, gathering the wetness before easily sliding his middle finger in. You moaned at the contact, fluttering your eyes closed. He pumped his fingers a few times, his eyes carefully observing your facial expression before he slid it out. You whined at the loss of contact, opening your eyelids only to find him smirking down at you.

"Do you really think you deserve me wasting time on your pleasure?"

"Fuck you!", you snapped, resulting in him grabbing your neck and squeezing so hard, an airy cough left your lips.

"Such a dirty mouth", he lifted your face up, his jaw clenching, "but such a weak mind. Look at the pathetic mess you are..."

Your lips parted to offer a snarky response, but your mind quickly went blank the moment he slid fully into you. Arching your back, your hands found their way around his shoulders, while his rested on both sides of your head.

Tom did not waste any time in developing a quick pace, which made you roll your eyes back. With each thrust the head of his cock was brushing against your cervix, making your whole vision white. His left hand moved towards one of your breasts, pinching and twisting the oversensitive nipple between his fingers. His other hand made his way to your pussy, where his thumb started to draw sloppy circles over your clit.

Never in your life have you felt such pleasure in your life. Of course, you had previous lovers during the past two years while trying to get Tom out of your mind, but nothing compared to this. Curling your toes, you lifted both of your legs and rested them on his shoulder.

Both of you groaned in unison when you felt him going even deeper than before. His upper body collapsed on top of yours, his lips immediately latching onto your other nipple. Still gripping his shoulders, you dragged your nails down his back, leaving angry red marks behind.

The knot in your stomach started to tighten and your moans became louder and louder. Moving your hips so you can meet Tom's thrusts, you looked at his face, only to find him staring back with eyes clouded with desire. His fingers were now working faster on your sensitive bud and you let out a shaky breath: "Tom, I...", you could not finish your sentence, your vocabulary suddenly consisting only of his name.

"Shhh", he whispered, his hand moving from your breast to your cheek. He gently stroked it with his thumb and suddenly you saw in front of you the same Tom that charmed you years ago, "I've got you."

His words were enough to cause the knot to snap and your whole body went rigid, squeezing and pulsating around him. A few harsh trusts and Tom suddenly tensed on top of you, as he painted your insides white. You both held onto each other, fingers digging into soft flesh, as you melted into your shared euphoria.

It was not romantic.

It was primal. Rough. Dirty.

It was everything you have imagined.

Finally relaxing on top of you, Tom buried his head in your shoulder, trying his best to calm his breathing down. You laid under him, crushed under his weight, yet enjoying every second of the contact he allowed you to have.

Against your better judgment, you lifted your hand and started to gently stroke his hair. Against his better judgment, he allowed you to and closed his eyes in the process.

Tired from the long day and your office activity, Tom lifted you in his arms, his now soft member slipping out of you and he sat back on his chair, adjusting the backrest so you can both take a more comfortable position.

You lifted yourself from his chest and raised your eyebrow, but bit back your tongue the moment your gaze crossed his stern one, warning you not to voice whatever you had in your mind. Letting out a small chuckle, you shook your head and laid it back down on his skin.

There was an urge burning inside of you to mock him about showing gentleness, but deep down you knew this was your only chance to enjoy it. So you closed your eyes and relaxed, finally being able to fall asleep without the haunting dreams of what could've been.

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The sunlight was painting the whole room in a beautiful gold colour and Tom let out a low groan when he felt it hitting his face. His hand made its way over his eyes, shielding them from the light, while his mind slowly started to become aware of his surroundings. The uncomfortable chair was making all of his muscles ache and he immediately regretted not gathering the energy last night to make his way back to his room. The chill air coming from the window has not helped too, especially when we was only partly covered and-

Tom's eyes shot open looking down at his body and finding his suit jacket thrown over his waist and private parts. You, however, were not to be found. Not on top of him, not on the desk, nowhere in the room.

He immediately stood up, grabbing his pants from the floor and furiously putting them on, while breathing heavily. His gaze fell on the stack of books he pushed from his desk last night and he immediately fell on his knees, scanning the floor around him.

"No, no, no", he hissed under his breath, pushing his hair out of his eyes, "That little serpent!"

Not only you have left, but you also have taken the diadem with you. No matter how much he searched for it, it was definitely not here.

You tricked him.

Getting up back to his feet, Tom kicked one of the books on the floor, before slamming his hands on his desk. His breathing was hard and he could feel his blood boiling in his veins. Suddenly, his attention was caught by a small parchment of paper placed next to his quill. Unfolding it, he could have sworn his heart stopped for a second.

"My dear Tom,

Thank you for our wonderful night together. I did not want to leave you so early, but I had to be out of the castle before everyone else woke up. To be truthful with you, I am not going to be your new assistant. But your already knew that, so I guess it is not shocking news. I sneaked it yesterday when all of the teachers were having a party (or what you call a gathering, ha!). Neither do I have a new lord. You already knew that as well.

Do not stress about the diadem, as it is safe with me - if there is one thing I learned from you is that I need to take good care of horcruxes once they are made. I know it was probably foolish of me to bring it to you last night, as it does hold a part of my soul, but I promise that from now on I will take better care of it.

Without doubt your paths shall cross again. Remember Tom: You are mine. Always were, always will be.

Love, y/n

P.S. - I hope you do not mind that I helped myself by getting your keys from your jacket and getting a shower in your room. Also, I think you need to follow your own advice and start putting your objects away. I found your diary resting on your bedside table, so I had to take it with me. Do not worry - I promise I will keep it safe...

for now."

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CC artwork: Nasan Hardcastle

#tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #slytherin imagine #tom riddle smut #professor tom riddle #professor tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #professor tom riddle smut

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seventeenpins · 1 year ago

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Can we perhaps have something where stepdad Joel makes reader squirt-😗

alskdfjal yes of course this is so perfect :))) thank u for the prompt 💕

practice makes perfect

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: follow-up to bad girl. your mom decides to go out one night, leaving you and your stepdad at home alone together. feeling hurt and petty in response to his wife's cheating, he has no qualms with fucking you in your mom's bedroom. you make a mess.

warnings: okay lets go, a lot of fucking (so much fucking), stepcest, infidelity, oral sex (mentioned), unsafe piv, SQUIRTING, dirty talk, fingering, daddy kink, age difference (reader is late 20s, joel is mid-40s), a bit of dom/sub vibes, multiple orgasms, creampie -- let me know if i missed anything?

a/n: i am so completely blown away by the response to my first stepdad!joel fic -- thank you all so much for the comments and reblogs and messages, i fuckin cherish them all. as always, pls feel free to reach out. i hope you enjoy this instalment!

for the first week after joel walked in on you, you were half convinced your entire experience with him had been a fever dream. you hadn't seen all that much of him on account of a big project he's been grumbling about, something about a delayed material delivery that pushed him closer to a deadline than he'd prefer. you were busy yourself, too, going out with friends and spending long hours on some of your freelance work.

there were moments, though, that you'd catch one another and there'd be a glint of something in his eye.

one night, you, your mom, and joel are all sat at the table for a family dinner. your mom has drained her wine glass twice already, and is reaching for the bottle again as she tells you both, "i'm afraid i can't stay for long tonight, i just got a text from vera. sounds like she's having a bad night and needs a friend."

joel makes a sound like a snort that he follows up with a cough. "poor vera," he says, "she's been havin' an awful rough time lately, hasn't she? it's like she's inconsolable every other day."

"yes," your mom says, "she has been going through so much."

joel stares at her for a moment and you almost expect him to challenge her on it, but then he lets out a breath and smiles.

"you're such a good friend, baby," he tells her and she grins before turning back to her glass of wine and taking a big gulp. joel fixes you with a knowing stare and smirks. you both know she's not going to vera's.

after she finishes picking at her plate, she announces that she needs to get ready and dips out of the room.

"so, vera, huh?" you ask and joel snorts.

"can't believe your momma forgot she made me follow that woman on instagram months ago. according to her recent posts, she's currently travelling through iceland."

you roll your eyes and laugh, "seriously?" you ask, and joel nods.

"you'd think she'd be a better liar by this point," you say, and joel smiles but winces a little too.

it's not a game. you know it's not a game. just because you're used to your mother's antics doesn't mean it isn't new to joel, and he's only known for certain for a week that she's been unfaithful to him and that's gotta hurt. despite whatever's going on between you two, you know joel's heart is aching.

you're pretty sure you've just poured salt in the wound.

"i'm sorry, joel," you say, suddenly embarrassed, "i didn't mean to- i don't know. i didn't mean to make fun of it. i know you're dealing with... a lot."

joel shrugs and relaxes, "ah, it's alright sweetheart. just something i need to deal with. but you've done nothing wrong."

"okay," you say, and it's only then that you realise how close you've been leaning towards one another. at the sound of your mother's heels on the stairs, joel clears his throat and the two of you put more distance between yourselves.

your mother's voice carries down the hallway. "will you two be alright without me? i know you haven't had a chance to spend much time together."

"i'm sure we'll manage." you say, and joel smirks.

"she's a real good girl," he says, "'m lovin these opportunities to get to know her better."

"i'm glad to hear it," your mom says, and smiles between the two of you as you do your best not to choke.

"ya look great, baby," joel says, eyebrows raised as he looks your mom up and down. "cute dress. that makeup's gonna get ruined with your face masks, though, huh?"

she blushes and waves him off, "you know i like to get all get dolled up for my girls night," she says, "i can wipe the makeup off later."

"i'm sure you will," he says, and though you can hear the edge to it, you don't think your mom can. he presses a kiss to her cheek.

"i might be home late," she tells you both, "don't wait up!"

"no worries, baby," joel says, "in fact, if vera's having such a hard time, maybe you should make it a sleepover"

your mom grins and it's dazzling and heartbreaking. it's moments like this that you can see exactly why so many men have fallen in love with her. "that's a great idea, honey," she says, "i think i'll do just that! i'll see you both in the morning."

with a swish of her hair, your mom has left through the front door. joel groans, folding forward and resting his head in his hands, letting out a low "fucking jesus" before he sits back and composes himself. he lets out a deep sigh and then turns to look at you and shakes his head, closing his eyes, resigned.

you're not sure what's appropriate. you nearly reach out to deliver a comforting pat to his hand, but change your mind at the last moment, instead batting your hand out like a cat's paw and then recoiling.

joel's eyes weren't, apparently, closed. he sees your indecisive gesture, frowns, and gives you a look, before laughing. "you're okay, sweetheart," he says, his voice still tinged with the rumble of laughter, "it's all a lot to deal with. but i'm managing. and guess what?"

"what?" you ask.

"we've got a whole night to ourselves. just the two of us."

"oh yeah?" you ask, and you suddenly feel hot all over. joel's staring at you with such a darkness in his eyes that you're certain you're already wet.

"'f that's something you'd like, that is." joel smiles and it's almost unexpected the way he checks in with you, that he still has the capacity to focus on your needs. in his position, you might just be out to take what you could get, wholly and selfishly.

he's so... considerate. fuck he turns you on.

"i've got an idea," you say, and you take him by the hand and lead him upstairs.

you can feel his body stiffen when you stand in the doorway to your mother's bedroom. "you want me to fuck you in here?" he asks, and you can't parse his tone.

you're worried that you've gone too far, that despite the filthy way he fucked you only a few days ago, you've hit a barrier you should never have crossed, but you nod. before you can ask is it too much? he's growling "yes" and dragging you into the room.

he pulls you into a kiss, frenzied and feral, his teeth biting at you, nipping at your lips and cheeks, laving kisses down your throat. before you know it, you're both fully naked, clothes littered all over the floor of the room and joel's teeth are gently biting down on one of your nipples as he rocks his hips against yours.

"are you gonna let me take care of you? gonna let daddy take care of you?" he asks, "use your words."

"yes, daddy," you tell him.

"ya know," he tells you, running a hand down your sternum and resting between your breasts, feeling the rise and fall of your breathing, "there have been a few times i've gotten home late these past few days, and when i walked past your bedroom door i could swear i heard the sweetest little moans."

you blush and look away from him.

"uh-uh," he says, tipping your chin up, making you look at him, "were you thinkin' bout me?"

you nod. "yes daddy" it's the truth, after all.

"good girl," he smiles, "thank you for being honest with me. now i already know you're a dirty girl, what with all your naughty videos. and i know you're a fuckin' slut the way you spread your legs so easily for me."

"yes daddy," you echo.

"but what i don't know," he says, and his voice is velvet and dangerous, his pupils blown with hunger, "is just how many surfaces in this room i can bend you over and fuck you till you're so cock drunk you can't speak."

your eyebrows shoot up and your jaw drops.

"i ain't even started with you, honey," he smiles, and he drops to his knees.

it's a fucking marathon.

he eats you out at the foot of your mothers bed till you're panting, his lips glistening with your slick and he makes you feel so good you're certain you're gonna die.

then, your positions are reversed, joel trying his best to plant his feet into the carpet so he doesn't melt off the bed altogether, while you kneel before him. he fucks up into your throat, delighting in every vibration your moans and swallows provide.

soon, you're pressed up against the dresser, your fingers gripping onto the drawer handles as he fucks into your pussy from behind.

then against the bookshelf. the closet doors. there's a moment where joel gets closer than he'd like to coming and he has you grab onto the floor lamp as he eats your pussy again on bended knee, only this time you're standing up and trying your best not to crumple onto him when he makes you come a fourth and a fifth time.

you're starting to get overstimulated. no, you are overstimulated, but it's in the most oddly delicious way. joel has you folded over the foot of your mom's bed, your knees on an ottoman, the rest of you pressed against the mattress, fists groping at sheets, holding on for dear life.

it's a good angle, hell, it's the perfect angle. not only does it feel incredible, it helps prop your ass up to a height that allows joel's huge cock to fuck you deeper without too much more effort, gripping your hips as he pounds into you. the best part, though, is that you're both at the perfect angle to see yourselves in the full length mirror.

"jesus christ, baby," joel is saying, "you see how deep i am? feel how deep i am? pussy's so tight around this cock. can almost feel myself in here," he says, and presses two fingers against your tummy.

you moan, using every ounce of strength you have left to keep your ass in the air and take joel's cock so nicely.

"it feels so good, daddy," you sob, "it's so big, making me come so many times. fuck, i can feel it building- it feels so good, you make me feel so good-"

"yes, baby," he growls, "let go for me, let me feel you come stretched so pretty 'round daddy's dick."

"fuck, daddy," you whine, because you realise it's a different sensation that's been building and even though you know what it is, you've never quite reached an orgasm like this before. "i'm gonna come, daddy! i'm gonna fuckin come-"

"shit, baby," he says as he starts to feel hot wet spurts of liquid splashing out of you, "oh fuck, you gonna wet my cock with your cum?"

you're screaming now, so fucked out and overstimulated

"oh, shit honey, yes-" joel shouts, a man possessed, as he pulls his cock out from you and rubs furiously at your clit, moaning loudly as you gush all over his hand. "oh, i'm gonna need more of that," he groans, and you can't find words to argue. he fucks back into you, hitting that same spot, finding that same pressure.

"could fuckin drink this, baby," he says, "comin' all over my cock like the fuckin whore you are. look at us, baby, look in the mirror and don't you dare close your fucking eyes."

you obey. it's a struggle to get your eyes to even focus, but when you do, you're sent over the edge again and again and again.

the two of you look so fucking good, the jiggle of your ass, the angles of your bodies and the way you slot together, the tan of joel's arms, his muscles, his control, the silver of his hair.

his breathless mantra "good girl, good girl, fuckin' take it, such a good girl-," as you take everything he gives you and more.

he finds a rhythm for fucking every last drop out of you. he'll give you a few harsh, deep thrusts and then pull out and rub your pussy till you aren't gushing around him anymore. then he'll slap your pussy with the head of his cock, making you shudder before he stuffs it back in and builds you up again.

your thighs are drenched and the wetness down your legs is cooling. you've lost count of the number of times he's made you come like this, but finally, you're shaking so hard you can't bear it and his thrusts are getting staggered.

he's breathless when he manages to ask, "you want me to fill up this lil pussy? fill it full of daddy's cum?"

"yes, yes, yeesss-" you beg, and you watch your reflection as joel's hips stutter a final time and he lets out a strangled groan as he loses control and fucks his release into you.

the second after he comes, he collapses onto you but you're so weak and fuck-drunk you collapse, too. joel rolls off of you so you can breathe, but then both of you are laughing. you're disgusting, covered in sweat and spit and squirt and cum, but joel dips a finger into your pussy and then licks up the combination of juices.

seeing your awed expression, joel shrugs and then smiles, a little embarrassed. "just needed to taste ya like this," he says, and it's incredibly endearing.

after a few more minutes of laying around in messy, sticky comfort, joel gets up. and then- "shit".

"what's wrong?" you ask as you look up at him and he's- laughing?

you look down at what he's looking at -- the ottoman. you've drenched it entirely. it's at least three shades darker than it was to begin with, and reeks of sex.

"well," you say, "that's not ideal."

"guess i'll have to buy your momma a new one," he says, rubbing against his temples and barking out a short laugh. then he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and one to your forehead.

"you go have a shower," he tells you, "i'll take care of this mess, and then let's get some snacks," he winks, and you smile.

he starts to back out of the room when you call to him, "so, mom's gonna be gone all night-" you start to say, tentative.

"you already askin' for round two?" he asks, incredulous.

"if we're calling all of that-" you gesture around the room, "round one? then yeah. i'm asking for round two."

"dirty girl," he laughs, "you're fuckin insatiable!"

"that's not a no-" you point out.

"no, it's not a no," he says. "let's refuel. rehydrate. and get right back to it."

#joel miller smut #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x f!reader

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lucy90712 · 2 months ago

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Can you please make a hector fort fic where he spends all his time with his friends and spends barely time with her. Then they were supposed to go on a date together and she waits for him to pick her up, she waits for 2 hours and goes to social media to see if he has posted anything and sees on his story a picture of him and her girl bestfriend having fun playing games. So she leaves the house with her stuff. When hector comes home he realises what he has done and tries to get back in contact with her but he fails. They don't see each other for a while but he notices her walking on a busy street and tries to talk to her. (ending with fluff please)

You: good morning amor hope training goes well don't forget about our plans tonight I'll be waiting for you

Hector: have fun in class and don't worry I'll be there at 7 as promised

You: love you

That was the last I heard from Hector and now it's 8:32pm and he's still not here to pick me up. He promised he promised me he'd be here and that he'd make up for us not spending any time together. I should've seen it coming as he's been doing this for weeks he's promised time and time again that he will come over or we'll go on a date and then he never shows up. When I can finally get hold of him he always has an excuse either he was busy or with friends and lost track of time but whatever it is it hurts. I've done so much for Hector I've been there for him since we were kids and I've been there for every good and bad moment of his football career but he can't even manage to show up for one day or just to see me for an hour.

We made the jump from being friends to being a couple just over a year ago and for the longest time he was the best boyfriend ever he treated me so well was super attentive and really made an effort to be romantic and take me on dates. I don't remember exactly when it changed I think it happened slowly over time but ever since he's started playing with the first team more he's been busier with training and matches which I understand but what I don't understand is spending every evening with his teammates who he sees all day when he could see me. It might sound selfish but I just miss my boyfriend he's already missed so much like he wasn't here when I was stressed over my big exams and he wasn't here when I got the results and he wasn't here when I needed him most when my mum went into hospital and I was scared and panicking. Just a few months ago he'd never dream of leaving my side during any of those times but now he barely knows they even happened.

I text him once then twice then three times then I called multiple times but they all went unanswered. My last resort was to message him on Instagram as I know he won't have turned the notifications off for that but I didn't need to message him Instagram gave me my answer straight away. He had posted on his story showing him out with his friends and my best friend was with them too which was a whole other level of pain. My best friend knows all about my troubles with Hector yet she went out with him and his friends anyway and didn't even bother to tell me. That was the final straw I'm not dealing with this anymore I deserve better I deserve someone who will be there for me, not break promises and definitely not someone who makes me feel like this.

My mind was racing but I quickly worked out what I wanted to do so I grabbed my keys and got in my car. Seeing as Hector wasn't in I decided now is the perfect time to go and get all the things I have at his place and leave the spare key I have that he gave me ages ago because I won't be needing it anymore. When I opened the door I immediately saw all the little things of mine there are that makes Hector's place feel just like my own some of my books are on his coffee table and my hair ties on the sideboard by the door. I spent some time grabbing all my things while trying not to cry that I was losing my boyfriend who I thought was the love of my life. Before I left I found a piece of paper and a pen and wrote Hector a note to tell him his I felt and why I was leaving and then put my key with it. Closing the door I felt like I was closing a chapter in my life a chapter I never wanted to close and one that's going to stay with me for a long time but it has to be done.

Hector's POV

As soon as I opened the door to my apartment it felt weirdly empty like was something wrong but the door was locked and nothing looked like it has been stolen. Still I had a quick look around and then I noticed a piece of paper on the kitchen counter. Next to it was a key and that's when I realised what was wrong all of y/n's things were gone her books, her hair ties and all of the little things she leaves here were gone and this is her key that's now in my hand not with her like it should be. I knew the note would be from her but I didn't need to read it to know what was going on and what I'd done. I had promised to see her tonight as I've forgotten about the last few dates we've planned but I did it again my friends dragged me out after training and then I got carried away and forgot about the most important part of my day proving to y/n that I will do better. I really didn't want to read the note but I knew I had to I owe her that at the very least.

Dear Hector,

I have left my key and taken my things because I'm done. I'm done because tonight we were supposed to go out you promised you'd pick me up at 7 and you promised you wouldn't forget like you have been for the last few months but you did. Instead of trying to prove to me that you love me and that the last few months have just been an anomaly you went out with your friends and my best friend leaving me waiting for you, calling and texting you until I saw your story. I can't do this anymore I love you but I can't let you treat me like this so I'm calling it here. I've really enjoyed the last year or so we've spent together but it's time for us to move on as clearly we aren't meant to be.

I love you and probably will for the rest of my life but this is goodbye.

Y/n xx

Those words hurt to read. I already knew I fucked up but to see the words written in front of me made it truly hit me how much I'd hurt her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me she was always there for everything no matter what she's been by my side through every up and down and I truly thought she'd be there for everything for the rest of our lives. I wanted her there for every achievement in my career and I wanted to be there for all of her achievements too. She was the one I didn't need anyone else I didn't want anyone else but now she's left me and I don't have my person anymore and I may never have her again.

After the initial shock I tried to text her to see if I could apologise but she had already blocked me so I tried Instagram but she had blocked me on there too. I should've seen it coming but it upset me that I wouldn't be able to reach out to her and try and make things right or at least tell her how sorry I am for fucking this all up so badly. She's gone and it's all my fault that's what hurts the most if I hadn't been such an idiot then we'd still be together but no I had to go and ruin things with the best woman in the world.

A few weeks later

Life has been hell for the last few weeks I've really missed y/n I've missed having her sat in the stands during matches and I've definitely missed seeing her. She's been in my life for the longest time not just as my girlfriend but as my friend so not having her in my life anymore and so suddenly as well has been really hard. I've definitely not been myself all of the guys keep asking if I'm ok and I tell them I am but we all know it's a lie they know how much I love y/n and they can see how it's destroyed me to lose her. I've tried time and time again to reach out to her but of course I'm still blocked I even text her best friend to get her to talk to y/n but she says she hasn't seen her or had any of her texts answered either so I have no way of telling her that I'm sorry.

Everyone keeps telling me I need to try and move on and they're right it's just hard everything reminds me of y/n whenever I go anywhere I see places that we've been on dates to or just places we have memories at. Today I'm going to stop myself from moping about and go for a walk to clear my head as that's what I think I need to be able to move on or at least start to. I decided to go to the nearest park and walk around as it's relaxing and it should be quiet there which is what I need.

The park was pretty empty there was a few people around; one couple with their baby an older couple feeding the birds and a girl who was sat on a bench with a book. The girl reminded me of y/n her hair was the same colour and reading in the park is something she loved to do. As I walked closer I realised that it actually was y/n she had headphones in and the book she'd been reading in her hands like she so often did when I went to see her. Seeing her made me stop in my tracks I didn't know whether to go and talk to her or just leave her be but then I realised this is my chance to talk to her and get closure at the very least.

Your POV

Being without Hector has been hard I've missed feeling his touch and having him next to me when I sleep. So many times I've wanted to take it all back and run back to him but I know I can't or he'll think he can treat me like that again or someone else and I can't let that happen. Today is Wednesday which is the day that I had free from classes and usually I would spend all day with Hector so I've been sat at home all day thinking about him but I can't keep doing that so I needed to get outside. To give me something to do I walked to the park with my book. I found a bench with a nice view of the trees and the little pond with a few ducks and let myself forget about the real world.

I was so in my own world that I didn't notice when someone sat next to me to start with until they sighed which brought me out of my trance. When I looked to my side I think I turned as white as a ghost because Hector was sat next to me with a look of pure sadness on his face. It took a few seconds for my brain to begin functioning again but when it did I leapt up and tried to run away. I'm not ready to face him again not when I've been trying so hard to forget about him and move on I blocked him and separated myself from him so I wouldn't have to do this. Before I could get more than a few steps away Hector placed a hand on my arm he didn't pull me back he didn't even hold my arm tightly but having his hand on me stopped me dead in my tracks. He encouraged me to sit back down so I did and I watched as his hand moved off my arm down to my hand which he held tightly in his grasp so I couldn't run again.

"Hector" I started to say

"No please let me talk" he interrupted

"Ok but you have five minutes then I'm leaving" I said

"I'm sorry and I know move said that a lot recently but I really mean it when I got home and saw the note you left it broke me having all of your stuff gone from my apartment made it feel empty and not being able to see or talk to you has killed me I've missed you so much and I'll do anything to make it up to you" he said

"How do I know that you actually mean it and that you'll actually change I told you how disappointed I was a million times and every time you told me you wouldn't forget the next time and then you always did it's like I wasn't important to you anymore how do I know that'll change" I said

"I know I was an awful boyfriend but losing you has taught me a lot I know I can't treat you like that and I'd never dream of doing it again this might seem to much but you are truly the one for me I don't want to ever be with anyone else so please give me a another chance and I promise I'll do better and if I don't I'll let you go" he said

"Ok but this is your last chance if you miss any date or anything without telling me and giving me a valid reason we're done" I said

"I'll never miss a date ever again don't worry" he said

"I can't lie I'm glad to have you back I've missed you so much it really hurt to walk away" I said

"And you'll never have to walk away again I'm here to stay" he said

He pulled me into his side and leant down to kiss my lips which felt so good as I've missed having him by my side and I've definitely missed kissing him. He let me sit and finish the chapter I was reading before we left the park and went back to his place as he wanted to make things up to me straight away by having a movie date at home which he knows are my favourite. He's definitely off to a good start at making things up to me but honestly I'm just happy to have him back by my side.

#hector fort imagine #hector fort x reader #hector fort #football imagine

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blingblong55 · 1 year ago

Text

Matilda- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Photo creds:@ave661^

Based on a request:

Ghost finding out his s/o has a bad family, who she doesn’t keep in contact with but talks shit about and is like. Pretty open about how fucking awful her past was? if it’s too much I get it but like- I used to love your angst posts :3 they were so yummy! --- F!Reader, 18+, angst, comfort, family issues/trauma, mentions of SA/rape, mentions of eating disorders, toxic!family, mentions of child abuse, so...trigger warning!! ---

A/N: this is me trauma dumping so I'm sorry if it isn't perfect

Simon knew, he knew well that you weren't so open to starting a family with him for reasons he knew best to respect. But, one day, without him even realising he asked the question, you sat down and told him the story your teary eyes held for so long. As he listened to you explain the stories, he noticed how he wasn't speaking to his wife but to the little girl, his wife once was. The one who was left in a cruel world to people who shouldn't have had kids. "So, they...abused you?" He carefully asked and when he noticed you pause, he knew the answer you didn't. "I...I don't think so," your soft words spoke.

Nothing about the way you were treated seemed especially alarming 'til now

"What I know is that they were mean, evil to me. I was a kid...how was I to know right from wrong so easily?" You held his hand, support you failed to have as a child. Then, you told him the story of a young R/N. "I don't remember the exact age, but I could've been 5 through 8. I was there, he took me to his room, I thought we were going to play and he said we would so would I have known, you know?" Your innocent voice spoke the fear he held. "I don't remember much of that day but in glimpses, if I look too deep, I can see his hands between my thighs, and how he...well...you know," you couldn't explain, it was like a knot in your throat prevented to cause your heart more harm. "And you didn't tell your parents?" His voice is soft. You shake your head, "No, I...as a kid, they never believed what I said," you chuckle out of coping with it all.

"There was one time when my older sister tried to suffocate me, I didn't do anything to deserve it, all I did was watch cartoons and she annoyed me but I knew best and didn't feed into what she wanted from me." You pause and wipe some tears away. Your gaze never fell on his, afraid to break down too easily if you stared at the man who became home to you so long ago. He was that, he was comfort and home and you knew that if you stole one glance, you would be sobbing the stories. Your hand held his tighter, he knew well it was for comfort. "She pressed the pillow tight on my head, I was sick and my stupid lungs couldn't take the fact I had pneumonia, so of course killing me would be easier," you chuckle again. His gaze never left your delicate face and even he had to admit he cried as you told him these stories.

After a long sigh and pause you continue, "I somehow pushed her off me and ran to my parent's room, knocked loud and when my dad opened the door I swore I finally felt safe until I didn't," You know he was ready to ask why but you just laid your head on his shoulder. Looking off into the distance you continued, "My sister told them I pushed her, told her that I hated her, which is not true because hate is strong and she is my sister," you shake your head. "I cried when they didn't believe me, and had a panic attack in their room. and when I backed into a corner as my mother and father yelled at me...that's when they took my sister to the hallway and my mother stayed with me, she tried to hug me but I didn't need none of that...not from her." His hand rubbed your arm, knowing what you needed from him. You wipe some tears away, your breathing hitches and he wraps both arms around you. "I didn't hurt her Simon, I swear I didn't but no one believes me, no one," you whisper the last part. "I know you didn't, my love," he kisses your head and continues to rub your arm.

"I believe you, I'll always believe you before anyone else," he reminds you. "I...my mother gave me water and sent me to my room, told me to just sleep it off," you stop and cry. "Oh my love," he whispers and carries you onto his lap. The pouty frown broke his heart more and more. The cosy home he and you made for the years of your life, warming up his belief that slowly, he will replace all those bad years. The fireplace radiates heat on the snowy winter day. "In this world, I'll always believe you, no matter what, okay, my love?" He looks down and you nod. "That's my girl," he says and places a blanket over you both. "Do you want to continue, my love?" He asks, rubbing your back with his warm touch.

"I do," your voice is small. It was best to open about this and then burn it and let the ashes fly away than to keep it locked in for eyes to see. "I...as I grew up, I knew I had no place in that house. My mother shamed me for my body, and so did everyone in my family." Your head nuzzling onto his chest like a cat finding comfort. "So, I starved myself to be the perfect daughter. I did try to be perfect, I tried to get an I love you, a simple smile or hug." He nods, understanding where you came from. "One time, my mother grabbed my stomach, she told me I was fat and looking back at how I was at that age, I...I was healthy, nothing was ever wrong with me, nothing," you repeat in a whisper.

After a long time of comfortable silence, you speak again. "As I grew older, they made me feel terrible about all of me, how I dressed, if I did my makeup, my hair, my body, the stretch marks that decorated my body, all of it and even I wasn't allowed to have one bad day, not one." He shook his head and in that instant, he understood why all those years of loving you, you always avoided starting a family conversation. You were afraid to be like them, to persist in a cycle of never-ending trauma. He knew you loved him, he knew how much you yearned to be a mum, to watch him and you become parents and do foolish things for and with your child.

"I never understood why I was so insecure over my thighs or why I hated when people touched them, but as I grew older and noticed that I was...you know... I..um.." You could never be admitted, never say you were raped as a child, not when you were scared to acknowledge it again. "I know love," he responds so you don't torture your heart anymore. "But...when I realised what happened to me, that's when it all hit me and there was a time in my young life that I knew I would never forget," you kept holding onto his torso. "It hadn't been long after what that...person...did to me when my mum and sisters pinned me to the ground, they knew then that I disliked people touching my thighs so they pinned me to the ground and touched them," you shake your head, trying to forget the moment. "They...th-they touched my body as I cried and begged for them to stop and not once did anyone stop or help me. My father walked by and he...he just laughed and kept walking...how...how can you do that?" You cried. "How can a parent do that? I was a kid, Simon...a child," you broke down.

"And don't get me started on why I felt like Christmas was just not a happy holiday anymore." Your mind went to a past Christmas, your family yelling, your father accused of his cheating, never denying, just lying and yelling at your mother. You hid in a closet, grabbed headphones and played music loudly. Hours passed and your mother saw fear within her eyes as she cried to you, why can he love me? she asked as she cried, you played strong. Your father drove away, leaving his family scared and cornered in a bathroom, crying as they listened to stories.

"My dad used to hit me, well, my entire family really," you confessed. His eyes widened, he knew they were bad, but not this bad. "My dad had a belt he used to hit me with, my mother and sisters used to watch. One time, they added more fuel to the fire as they told him more lies to get me into more trouble, part of me thinks they loved to watch me cry and get hit." You so innocently say, "When I was a kid and even as I grew older, my mum and dad would hit me and tell me they did it because they loved me." He shook his head, "Never...never in your life do you dare think that way. If I even dare to lift my hand at you, you leave me, my love. Because no matter how much you or I love the other, abuse doesn't equal love," he cups your face. You nod.

You learned one thing from Simon as he listened, that he was calm after the bad storm. He had his troubles, yes, but never would he be like them. He and you healed the other after all those years of a bad life you lived. You and him, sunshine to the other even in the darkest of the night. He has become light and a new beginning. Family. And as you admire the soul who can tell which smiles you are faking, you know that the little girl in you is finally safe. She has packed her dolls and sweater, moved to the countryside, grew up and fell in love with a man. A man who is home, a man who became the grown-up little R/N runs to when scared. For he is home, he is light and he is love. He is your man, your safe place and the one you find comfort in.

I don't believe that time will change your mind In other words I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go

"No more," he told you, you looked up at him in confusion. "No more?" you asked and he shook his head. "From this day on, you are not their blood, you are a Riley, you are R/N Riley and never will you be associated with them." He cupped your face. His tone was stern as he tried to make you listen to him. "They are not family, my love. They are strangers you lived with. And me...I am your family, we don't need another shit Christmas, we can...hm...we can have dinner here, or maybe get takeout and watch your favourite movies all day and night. Hey, who knows, maybe that Santa Clause man will come in the night as we sleep and hopefully you've been nice my love because I want him to bring you some good gifts," he chuckles as he cups your delicate face. You laugh a little, "Hey, look who's back, that cute laugh of yours my love," he kisses your lips and pulls you to him, closer than you already were.

You can start a family who will always show you love You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

In this lifetime, you will learn many things and you will meet many people. Most of which will come and go. Those who stay, you may ask? Well, they become a family, maybe not a biological one but it's not blood that relates two strangers. It's memories, it's understanding, growing, living and loving. Family is him, family is the old lady or that professor you bonded with. Family is people who make you feel safe and at home. For if you are lucky, in this life you will find your Simon Riley. The person who wraps you in a warm blanket and loves you a little more when you hate the reflection in the mirror. And if you get even luckier, you will find that not only will it be Simon Riley who heals your old wounds and covers them in kisses and caresses. You will find yourself, maybe in ten years, getting covered in glitter, mud, and stickers and having the walls of your home drawn on by Simon's child. The love child that was created on a warm Christmas morning. The same one that wakes you up at six in the morning to go and see what the big red man brought them for Christmas.

And if you are lucky enough, you will find peace. The same one you looked for since age 5, the same one you cried for throughout the years. Maybe it won't come this year, but if you are patient enough, you will find it and when you do, appreciate it because you cried for it many moons ago.

You don't have to be sorry, no

A/N: the tears I shed as I wrote this made a river. Anyway, thank you for letting me dump years of trauma with this one, love you all <3

Tags:

@ghostslillady @liyanahelena @sans-chara @siwwayouu @allaboutirem0 @just3rowsing @mothcelestial @blankk3

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