#james sunderland x reader

[crimsonbubble]

after spending so much time in silent hill, he's bound to be pent up and frustrated. I bet he'd cry when you ride him. just sitting on his lap and bouncing all pretty on his thick cock while he's trying not to sink too far into your touch but you're so fucking warm around him and your voice is so tantalizingly sweet that he can't help but sink further into you. pulling him away from hiding his face in your neck so you can see his face; all flushed and puppy eyed as you grind your hips on his. he probably whimpers all soft and sweet as you bounce on him. def pleads and begs like you're not actively fucking yourself on his cock.

pls talk to me about this pathetic wet cat coded man 🙏

[kiyokowastaken]

A Piece Of Heaven.

James Sunderland x Female Reader.

Minors Don't Interact!!!

CW: fingering, overstimulating, p in v (no protection), hair pulling/tugging, blowjob, babying a middle aged, miserable man, dirty talk, OOC James, porn with plot, age gap (reader is in her early twenties while James is in his mid-thirties), tit sucking, creampie, dom!James, oral (male and female receiving and giving, face f*cking, James has a breeding kink.

Summary: After partnering up with James and Maria, you could see the dynamic between them. A beautiful blonde vixen flirting with a miserable and pathetic man in search of his supposedly dead wife. Feeling a bit jealous of the interaction between them, you decided to climb the roof of the hotel to watch whatever of the sky that you can but you’re interrupted by someone.

This isn’t revised so excuse any misspelling or grammar mistakes! I was also inspired by another amazing James Sunderland x Reader writer named sundrlands so check them out!!

Enjoy loves ^^!

The fucking fog.

How come in some areas it’s dense as fuck but now when you need the fog to be dense, it’s not. You saw the blonde haired woman named, Maria latching onto James’s arms as if she couldn’t hold her own. You knew that the male was far too awkward to say anything about it, so he merely just let it be. You looked around the area, it seemed not as rundown and ruined as the other places that you guys have encountered, you caught a glimpse of a flower shop and your interest was piqued to say the least.

You jogged over to the small shop as James was looking down at the map trying to figure out where the hotel was as Maria was merely talking his ear off. You were pleasantly surprised when the flowers looked to be alive, they were still blooming in such a terrible condition. Your fingertips reached out and graced the soft petals of a Lily, the beautiful flower slightly moved by your touch before it got covered by a shadow.

You turned around to see James, which caused you to take a few steps back. His cologne was faint yet lingered around him, he smelled like clean laundry with a hint of a musky yet woody scent, the kinda smell that when you hugged someone you would try and take another whiff, “Uh..I figured out the way to the hotel, we would get there in a couple of more minutes..” The blonde haired man would mumble.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as you looked back at the blossomed flower, “You speak as if I’m going to snap back at you.” James merely flushed a bit at your comment as it took him a moment to think about his next choice of words. He always seemed to do that, instead of other people who just spoke their minds without considering what others might say.

James was the opposite, it’s like he handcrafted his response for you, yet he still fell short, “I didn’t want to disturb you, you looked peaceful over here in your own world.” He hummed out as he looked down at the flowers before he reached out and tried to stroke the flower but it seemed that he lacked a certain softness to his touch.

The very Lily that you once caressed so tenderly and gently, lost a petal once James touched it. James seemed a little disheartened as the sad look on his face that he always had seemed a bit more sadder, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched it, it seems like whenever I touch things they always end u-..” You stopped James’s sad monologue as with a bit of confidence, you grabbed his hand with your own and gently moved over to a flower, a budding bushel of Heathers.

You guide his hand and with a gentle brush of both hands, the bushel waves gently before you pulled your hand away with a small smile as you turned to look at the taller male, “Don’t always be pessimistic James, you have a gentleness to you. You just need to be patient, now come on, Maria is waiting for you.” You said with a slight bitter tone that James seemed to catch before his soft yet gruff voice said, “You mean, us, she’s waiting for us.” To which, you merely nodded before walking back with James.

A few minutes turned to a hour and the sweet moment between you and James had seemed to dissipate into thin air. Maria was once again walking side by side with James, their hands occasionally brushed against each other more than they should. At one point, Maria mentioned how cold she was which caused James to pause before he tugged off his military jacket and held it out for her which she graciously took and slipped on. You, in the meanwhile just scoffed, how unbelievable. James was merely being a gentleman and gave the women his jacket, so she wouldn’t freeze to death and here you were acting like it was the worst betrayal of your life. I mean, it stung a bit, you asked James to borrow his jacket during a moment of rest since the room you guys were in was cold to which he merely just got up and went through the hassle of finding a semi-clean blanket and handing it to you.

You merely just looked around at whatever you could in the surrounding scenery as the fog began to slowly disappear. You looked back to see the hotel, it was small but it was near an embankment of water which gave it a nice appeal. You guys got closer and before you guys knew it, you guys separated off into your own rooms. James got the room in the middle while you and Maria got the right and left rooms next to his.

Once, James got his jacket back from Maria, you all settled into your own rooms for the night. It was a delightful surprise when the water still ran through the pipes of this hotel, it was clean water as well. You stripped out of your clothes and turned the warm water on as once your body stepped into the warmth, it melted away any stress that you had away. You guys had battled all sorts of weird ass monsters coming to this hotel, so this was refreshing to say the least. You cleaned off the grim, sweat, and the blood off your body before getting out and changing back into your clothes.

They were a bit dirty but nothing too bad, you then debated into taking a nap or just roaming around the hotel. You guys could probably stock up on whatever you needed to finish this fucked up adventure so without a second thought, you grasped the handle of the door opened it before stepping outside into the fresh night breeze. Silent Hill looked less scary when it was night, the fog almost seemed lifted and the surroundings were now noticeable.

You turned towards James’s door to see him talking with Maria as they both leaned against the iron railing. You squinted a bit and you found yourself a bit shocked to see a small smile on his face, you had more than enough seeing the two of them together so you turned on your heel and walked to the opposite side. You looked through the few rooms that were accessible and grabbed some bandages and couple of food supplies before you found a latter up to the roof of the hotel.

You shrugged before you grabbed ahold of the latter and started to climb your way up to the room. Once on top of the roof, you let out a deep sigh as the air felt fresher up here. The cold wind stung your warm skin and blew through your slightly damp hair before you found yourself sitting on top of the roof. It was comfortable, the concrete of the roof was smooth enough to not be uncomfortable as you laid back and looked up at the sky and for once in Silent Hill, you felt at peace.

You closed your eyes for a moment as the wind blew small strands of your hair away from your face, you slowly reopened your eyes and the moon was bathing everything in its moonlight, including yourself. You looked serene, downright ethereal to James as he finally found you, he was getting worried once he searched your room and every other room that you already ransacked and didn’t find you.

He took a deep breath air before releasing it as he could now be calm. A few minutes ago, he was talking to Maria, the woman was good company. She was cocky, confident, and a downright temptress but he had enough of those types of women in his younger years. The attention was nice but you caught his eye, he really shouldn’t even be considering anyone when he’s looking for his wife, yet you graced him with patience, a loving and gentle touch, and the way your eyes always seem to shine a bit more brighter whenever he talked to you made him feel..good. Mary, they had their arguments and yet, they loved each other but somewhere along the way the glimmer in her eyes and the way she looked at James, it no longer felt like home. Yet, here he was searching for her after three years of her supposed death.

James saw you staring up at the sky and found himself also in awe at how beautiful the stars shined. He then cleared his throat as he saw you perk up as if he had frightened you, “Sorry..I didn’t mean to scare you, I just got worried when I didn’t find you in your room.” He said softly, as he walked a bit more closer before he found himself sitting down a bit away from you as he didn’t want to invade your space. “Are you okay..? I mean, obviously we aren’t since we are stuck in this hellhole but you seem to become a bit more reserved.” James said as his eyes glanced at you before looking elsewhere.

A silence followed afterwards and it seemed to eat at James, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

You let out a huff as you turned your body to fully look at James, “Are you something with Maria?” You rebutted with a question of your own. James was stunned at the question as he felt a red flush settle at the tips of his ears as he shook his head, “Me and Maria..we are just uh..good acquaintances. That’s all..” He stumbled out as your eyes hyper focused at his small movements and gestures.

“Then..why don’t you act the same way with me? You found Maria and me at the same place, we have been traveling together for a while now and yet, it seems like..you dislike me.” You muttered out before peeling your eyes away from James. James didn’t mean to make you feel that type of way, he didn’t mean to make you feel isolated from your small little group. This place was already isolating as it is.

“I-..I’m sorry, it’s just that..well I find myself feeling some kind of way whenever I’m near you and I don’t want that to affect us, it’s difficult to explain.” You could see James in the corner of your vision, he was rubbing the back of his neck. A bubble of confidence or maybe the way the moonlight reflected on James’s eyes made him seem all the more pathetic. You patted your lap as you looked at him for a split moment, “We have all the time in the world right now, explain this feeling to me, please.”

James looked at your lap that you patted before looking up at you, he felt like if he gave in to you, he would betray Mary. He did all of this for her. He reprimanded himself for feeling a warm feeling whenever you guys even locked eyes for a split moment. Yet, a part of him craved comfort, he wished to be adored again. He wished soft hands cradled his worn and tired face and pressed soft kisses against it. Mary once did that before the damned illness took her.

He moved closer to you and placed his head on your plush thighs and closed his eyes.

Warmth.

That’s what you gave off, the scent of a sweet yet citrus scent clung onto you and your clothes. He tensed up when he felt your hands on him. One on his chest and the other one scratched his scalp and he battled to hold back a soft groan. Sinful. This was utterly sinful. He was still married to Mary, he loved his wife, yet why did he turn around and push his face onto your stomach as one of his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled him close.

“J-..James..!” You stuttered out as the touch to you was foreign. You had have past lovers and loved every single one but none of them made you feel the way James did. The older man, he made a part of you want to baby him..protect him and care for him. He could provide for himself yet to your mind that didn’t matter.

“You make me feel warm, you make me forget about Mary. It feels so wrong. I’m here for her..and yet, your arms have felt more like home than hers ever did..and I feel guilty for such thought.”

Those words that James muttered out against your stomach made your face burn unlike any other. You didn’t know how to respond as you felt him take a deep inhale and then exhale, he felt more relaxed..guess that was eating at him for a while now. Your hand merely slid from his chest towards his back and rubbed his back as she sighed.

“You don’t have to feel guilty James..I also feel the same, I just didn’t know that you felt like I did. You always seemed reserved towards me, so I just thought I made you uncomfortable for something like that.” You felt James shift before you removed your hands from him as he sat up. He was fairly close now. You could smell him just like you did in the flower shop.

“..As I stated before, I’m not uncomfortable with you. I will feel terrible if you got mixed up with someone like me, (Y/N). You’re kind, sweet, warm, patient, and just everything that I’m not. I still have this whole Mary thing to resolve. We still need to get out of here and..I’m a bit older than you. You’re barely enjoying yourself, I’m already past my prime.” James said with a soft chuckle leaving his lips. God, that chuckle..it felt like a drug. You wanted more of that.

“You should stop putting yourself down, you’re terrible at even finding a good thing about yourself, James. You have this softness in you, I can see it. It’s just hidden by troubles, nothing that a little patience and talking can’t undo and about the whole age thing. Do you really think I care? We have gone against unexplained beings and you think an age gap is what’s gonna scare me off?” You rebutted with an eye roll as James raised an eyebrow.

“Do you like your men older?”

The silence that followed was all consuming, you cleared your throat as you puffed up your chest a bit as you nodded, “Well, yes but not senile old.” This seemed to make James laugh as he turned his face away from you as his body shook with his laughter.

“So, do I fit into your criteria?” James asked as his normally reserved and cold demeanor changed slightly. It had a hint of flirtatiousness and genuine curiosity. “I mean, yeah, you do.” You said as you couldn’t help but notice him moving closer.

A sudden change in the air happened, it was noticeable. He hummed as he looked at your eyes and then down to your lips, he wanted to kiss them so badly. It was almost downright painful how much he craved to brush his lips against yours. You could feel his eyes, you almost felt naked in his stare. It felt like he was undressing you.

“Jam-..”

“Can I kiss you?”

Did you fall asleep on the roof of the hotel and now your mind was conjuring up some wet dream about the male you have been lusting over? No, this felt real. He felt real. The warmth he radiated was real. You could only nod before he leaned in close and looked into your eyes with his beautiful, enchanting blue-grey eyes, “I need you to say yes or no.”

You felt your heart beating quickly, he was close, his slow exhale of breath. You could feel it against your lips before you opened your mouth, “Yes..please.”James let out a soft and quick breathy laugh before he placed one of his hands on your neck and pulled you into the kiss. His other hand was placed on your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You couldn’t hide the slip of a soft whine tumble out of your lips.

Heavenly. That’s what James felt right now. If Silent Hill was his own personal hell then you must be his personal heaven. The hand that held your neck slowly slipped upwards towards your jaw as he held it. His tongue flicked against your bottom lip as to ask for entrance.

James acted different. This wasn’t the same man that seemed to dislike small talk or any time of human connection if it didn’t regard Mary. You might’ve unleashed a animal, a hidden side of him that you only caught glimpses at whenever he swung that metal pipe and aimed at those twisted creatures before pulling the trigger without hesitation. You opened your mouth, a tad bit but that was enough for James to slip his wet tongue into your mouth. Your arms that were once by your side slipped upwards to grasp at his faded, forest green military jacket as a anchor. Your own tongue shyly met his in a heated and sultry dance. The kiss that was supposed to be somewhat sweet became needy and sloppy.

He tilted his head to the side as his hand that was on your waist slipped down and underneath your shirt as his calloused and rough hands grasped your body as if to reassure himself that you weren’t going to slip away. That you weren’t a figment of his imagination. You were real.

The two pulled away from the kiss as a line of saliva was the only evidence of the hot and heavy kiss. James’s hand that was on your jaw slid upwards and wiped your bottom lip as the string of saliva was no longer there. The air was charged with sexual tension, it was no longer awkwardness and stepping on eggshells. It was filled with lust, need, and want.

“I need you..I want you but we don’t have to continue if you don’t want too.” James said between small soft pants as he tried to regain his steady breathing. Your eyes were hazy, in your mind, you only wanted him. You craved him. You have held back for a while and now the man that you craved, he craved you back.

“I need you as well, James Sunderland.”

Those words sealed your fate. Now, here you were, your shirt and light jacket thrown on the floor of James’s hotel room. Soft moans and pants filled the room as James left dark purplish red marks on your neck and collarbone. How you were going to explain these marks to Maria tomorrow, well, that was a problem for tomorrow. James was set on marking your skin up, claim it as his. To claim you and mark you as his woman.

His tongue licked and traced from your collarbone down the valley of your breasts. He placed a couple of sloppy kisses there as his mouth traveled to your right breast as he attached his lips around your harden bud. His tongue swirled around it as he started to suckle on your breast. His hand ran up your body and groped your left breast, his thumb and middle finger pinched and tugged on your nipple as one of your hands grasped the bedsheets and the other hand tried to muffle your moans and gasps.

Your body was soft, warm, and inviting to James. He felt like he was tainting you with all of his sinfulness, he didn’t want to damn you but at the same time. He grasped onto you as if you were his salvation and maybe, you were. His angel, his pretty girl..he wanted to leave you a beautiful mess. His teeth softly teased your nipple that was on his mouth before he pulled away with a lewd ‘pop’. Your expression was his favorite thing, yet he disliked you hiding your face.

“Don’t hide your face sweetheart, I want to see you for who you are, please.” He said as he locked eyes with yours as his mouth wrapped around your left nipple as his right hand slid up your body to tug and pinch your spit ridden nipple. He gave the same treatment to your left nipple until he felt satisfied with himself. After that, he left a couple more love marks on your chest just to make sure as pulled away from your shivering body.

“May I?” He said as he eyed your pants as you nodded as your hands slid down to unbutton and unzip your pants so that he didn’t need to struggle as much. His hands then grabbed the hem on your pants and panties before he tugged them down in one fluid motions. The need to cover your intimate area was strong as your hand slipped between your thighs to cover your slicked cunt. James found that cute, he dropped your pants and panties on the ground before his attention returned to you.

He grasped your waist and pulled you to the edge of the bed as he made you sit up as he got on his knees. He wanted to taste you, badly. He looked up at you for a sign of hesitation before you nodded once again in consent as his hands prided your thighs open. He felt himself salivate when he saw your cunt dripping for him, “All for me, pretty girl~?” He cooed as he looked up once more to see your flustered face. He chuckled as he began with pressing soft kisses on your inner thighs as he teased you with small nips to your thighs. He suckled a few marks on your inner thighs before he was face to face with your cunt.

He closed his eyes as his tongue slipped out and a wet stripe licked your slit. You instant let out a whine as your thighs tensed up, he kept your thighs apart using his hands which were wrapped around them. He prodded his wet muscle into your cunt as his nuzzled his face into your wet heat. His nose occasionally bumped against your clit as his tongue lapped at your juices as he eagerly tasted you like if you were an expensive wine. His tongue prodded your clenching entrance before he nuzzled his face more into your cunt as his tongue slipped into your clenching and unclenching entrance.

His slurping became downright pornographic as your hands left the crumpled up bedsheets and slipped into his dirty blonde locks. Your head fell back as your lips were in a ‘o’ shape as moans and whines of pleasure left them. You began to grind your cunt against his mouth as the way he slurped you like he was a hungered man was all too addictive. The way his nose bumped against your clit would send shivers down your spine as goosebumps riddled your body, “J-..James~!” You moaned his name loudly.

This made James prideful, he pulled away from your slicked cunt as leaned his head against your thighs as you guys once again locked eyes as he panted heavily. He looked downright fucking sinful, his hair a tousled mess in your hands, his face flushed red, his eyes glazed over with pure lust and admiration, and his lips along with his chin were smeared with a combination of his spit and your juices. “Use me to get off, c’mon baby girl, I’m only here for you.” He panted out.

Those words made your eyes roll to the back of your head as his lips wrapped around your clit. Fucking hell. He was so fucking good, you felt the coil in your stomach come to life. One of his hands left your thighs as they slipped down to your cunt, his index and pointer finger slipped into your cunt without much resistance. He angled them upwards and curled them in a ‘come here’ motion, you soon began to grind your cunt on his face like if he was merely a tool for your pleasure.

The coil began to slowly unravel as he continued to suckle on your clit as his fingers quickened in pace as he felt you clenching non-stop on his fingers. You pushed his face against your cunt with your hands as his unused hand gripped your thighs in a bruising hold before he pulled away as he heard a disappointed and pitiful whine leave your pretty lips. He panted heavily as his chest rose and fell quickly as he tried to regain all the air he needed. He fell back on his ass as his other hand that was on your thigh wiped his face clean from your wetness. “Not yet, pretty girl, you aren’t going to cum that easily.”

He said as before he stood up, he then began to strip. Once he was naked, he had scratch marks and cuts on his body. They had long scarred which meant he probably got them long ago, your eyes mapped out his entire body before your eyes found his cock. He was trimmed, neat which surprised you. He was a good six and a half inches, he was more length than girth. He had a pretty pink tip, that was currently leaking pre-cum as it seemed that eating you out worked him up.

You looked up at him as he walked towards you, you licked your lips as he loomed over you. He grabbed your chin as his thumb ran across your lip, “Will you be a good little girl and suck me off, ‘hm?” He asked as you merely dumbly nodded, “Then, what’re you waiting for?” He let go on your chin before as he grabbed your hair into a ponytail as your mouth opened to let him slide into your mouth.

Your mouth wrapped around his tip as your tongue licked his slit that was leaking pre-cum. You swirled your tongue around his head before you slowly took more into your mouth, you had a bit of a gagging reflex so little by little did you take his cock into your mouth. You felt the tip of his cock press against the back your throat which caused you to gag, your hands held onto his muscular thighs as your nails dug onto them. He was fully in your mouth, he could see that you were tense so, he gave you a bit of advice, “Relax..breathe through your nose. You will cause yourself to gag more if you try to breathe through your mouth.” He said as he felt you take his advice.

He then started to bob your head up and down his cock as he felt drool mixed with pre-cum coat his cock. He also heard a bit of it fall onto the floor beneath the both of you, he let soft groans out as his head lolled back in pleasure as the hold that he had on your hair tighten, “That’s it darling, you’re taking my cock so well…” He mumbled out as he slowly began to buck his hips into your mouth. As when he looked down at you, he saw your pretty mouth around his cock as those tear filled eyes looked at him.

“Fuck..if you look at me like that, I might just cum early, doll face.” He muttered through gritted teeth as he felt you hollow your cheeks to create more suction. He felt you become more comfortable as he placed his other hand on your head as he began to lightly thrust into your mouth. The lewd noises and the occasional gagging sound around his cock made him shiver. He felt the knot in his stomach slowly appear.

He quickened his pace a bit more as he almost lost himself when he felt you swallow around his cock. The way your throat tighten around his cock, it was fucking heaven sent. You were a fucking miracle. He began to just fully thrust into your mouth as you slacked your jaw, letting him fully fuck your mouth as groans and..a whimper left his mouth. Oh, this was heavenly, he made such a pretty noise that made you bob your head with his thrusting as you felt his cock throbbing into your mouth more frequently.

It was you that pulled away from his grasp as you coughed, your lips were swollen from the kissing and the sucking you were just doing. He let out a frustrated groan leave his lips as he felt his cock throbbing as his orgasm was so close. You inhaled and exhaled deeply as your chest heaved, “If I couldn’t get my..orgasm, then you can’t either..” You panted out as James merely glared at you before he nodded, it was only fair. He edged you close to your orgasm and you did the same.

He pushed you down on the bed as he towered over you as you guys scooted upwards onto the bed a bit more. James placed a pillow underneath you and moved you close to him, you wrapped your legs around his hips as he looked at you, “Uh..I don’t have a condom, are you sure?” James asked as his hands were on your hips as his thumbs wrapped smoothing circles on your skin. You bit your lip as you thought for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, it’s okay..I want to feel all of you.” You mumbled.

James nodded as he positioned himself before he slowly slipped inside you. You winced a bit at the penetration as it had a been awhile since you slept with someone. James gritted his teeth as he swore that he wasn’t about to cum right then and there. You were fucking tight, he huffed as the grip on your waist tighten as he slowly sank more of his length into your cunt. You, in the other hand, you felt filled. He thrusted fully into you as your toes curled as he let you get used to him and his size.

A few seconds passed before you rolled your hips and a soft moan left your lips, you looked at him and gave him a reassuring nod as he bottomed out before thrusting back into you. Your hands wrapped around his neck as your nails dug into his board shoulder, “F-..fuck, James..feels so fucking good~!” You whined out as James settled for a slow yet deep pace.

Skin on skin slapping could be heard throughput the room, the scent of sex lingered and consumed the air in the room as the bed squeezed with every deep thrust that James gave you. Your moans mingled with his groans as his hands ran up your body and groped your breasts as bounced every time that he thrusted into your squelching cunt. Lips messily found each other as both of you locked lips in a sloppy and lustful kiss. Passion and..love was found between the two of you. You guys fucked each other like if you were in your own honeymoon.

You guys complete forgot about the outside world and the cruel reality. You guys were completely focused on each other, saliva slicked lips found bare and naked skin to mark as James pace became more quick. Your nails ran down his back creating red irritated marks as he groaned, one of his hands slipped away from your breasts and down to your clit. He rubbed quick and tight circles as he felt you clench around him like a vice, trying to milk him for everything that he had, “f-..fucking hell, c’mon doll face, take my cock. After we are..out of here, I will make you my pretty wife and fuck a baby into you, yeah~?” James said rolled his hips into your cunt.

You nodded as you were feeling so fucking good, he was fucking you so good. “y..yeah, I wanna be your pretty wife..fuck a baby into me right now, please baby~!” You whined against his ear as he nodded. Both of you too drunk out of each other’s presences as the coil in your stomach grew too tight as he quicken the pace into a more quick and deep pace as his kissed your g-spot so fucking precisely and him rubbing your bundle of nerves didn’t help as you came around his cock without warning. You clenched around him tightly as he felt your walls spasm around his cock.

“Good girl..coming on cock so prettily, gonna make you a mommy, mhm, you want that baby girl, ‘hm~?” James said as he wrapped his unused arm around your waist and pulled you close to cold sweat covered body. You nodded dumbly as you felt overstimulated, the way he kept fucking you like a mere ragdoll, chasing his own orgasm made you clench around him. You bit down on his shoulder he as he continued to thrust into you as he felt his cock twitching more frequently, “Close..I’m gonna breed you, my sweet girl. Make you mine fully, come on, cum with me. Let’s cum together….” He muttered as his breathing was ragged.

His chest heaved quickly as his thumb started to swipe against your clit as his thrusts became animalistic in pace as he pounded into you. He groaned loudly into your shoulder as came deep into you. Filling your womb to the brim with his seed as you cried out as you came hard. He stopped swiping on your clit as both his arms held you close to him. He could feel himself twitching inside you. Fuck..you both were tired. He slowly pulled out of you with a wince as you merely groaned, you felt his sticky, warm seed drip out of your abused cunt.

James pulled you down onto the bed with him as he would clean this mess up later but right now, he wanted to relish in the afterglow. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as his hands rubbed your back as you nuzzled into his chest, “I will do everything I can to get us out of Silent Hill..I promise.” He muttered against your hair as you merely nodded as you were fair too tired to form any sentences. He soon felt your body go limp as you feel into a deep slumber.

This wasn’t about Mary anymore, he had to move on from her..he loved Mary but you loved him even if he was a broken man. You chose to embrace him and give yourself to him regardless of the darkness within himself.

You were his saint, his angel, his goddess..his little piece of heaven.

[sundrlands]

‘below the mouth’ j. sunderland x fem reader

minors dni

cw: in the dark, shoe riding/humping, light oral fixation/spit play, slightly messy, james is depicted as a pervert, sub leaning james with him being dominant at times, obsessive(j.), mutual masturbation(?), squirting, breeding, james is in his mid to late thirties. reader uses she/her pronouns.

summary: james… your coworker. the man who seems so hardworking, headstrong and devoted to his work… is nothing but a pervert enticed with the very being that you are… he can’t help but to see you as art— a canvas to paint on… as if his hands were paint… and his fingertips as the bristles, sketching out his greed with his lips and his words.

a/n: more porn than plot, forgive me. not too fond of this one and kept eyeing it over and over over and ended up truly hating this… nonetheless i hope you find some enjoyment in this one. i did not proofread…

oh james… what ever shall he do?

poor thing, constantly wrapped up in his own mind… unable to tame the growing thoughts that mutated within him. being lonely does things to a person… the years of suppression only made his longing for intimacy fester in the darkness of his greed.

in the beginning… it had been alright— good with his composure, carrying a kind of elegance through his actions and words. he wore ‘respect’ like an honorable man— button down shirts, tucked nicely in his well ironed pants. every day he’d come in dapper, not one thing out of place. it would be impressive to notice his true desires when he hadn’t worn them out on his sleeves.

though now… it was a different story. there’s only so much he could take… seeing you in your work outfits every single day or hearing your voice… the song you sung that never failed to make him treasure your being and feel every vowel that spewed from your lips filter and sprawl all throughout his veins. james tried to keep his need low, always being so gentleman like— kind, thoughtful and charming, but his thickening puddle of lust seeped through in the growing void that rests in the center of his eyes… being far dirtier than what meets the eye, disgusting even.

it was cute once you picked up on it… or at least the extent of it— his shyness and ability to lose all self, unable to maintain professional eye contact or a flowing sentence without randomly clearing his throat. a man well into his thirties— one that was valued by your shared boss, exceeding work ethic, always saying ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘yes sir’, not blinking an eye to the rule’s code— felt the need to act so foolishly enticed when it came to you.

for him, the absence of touch— one that he never felt come from your hand — drove james into a constant state of lustrous want… it ate within his being like a hungered cannibal digging its fingers through every fiber of his flesh. it prodded and ripped in the center of his chest like a wolf's canines as he sat at his work desk, drained… lifeless… thinking about everything he wanted to do to you… or whatever you’d do to him.

the inside of his body grew hot at the thought of you— dry throat, racing heart, fumbling words… his eyes, lingering all over your body longer than they had the day before, trying to see how much he could get away with… letting every second store itself in his photographic memory.

infested with carnality, day and night. james’ mind couldnt escape his perverted thoughts; as if it was the horrid and angry deep sea, crashing against the softness of the hot sand, in need of something to fix prurience, and the heightening want to be underneath your skin.

it started off with a hello, you being new and him well within the company’s community by a decade or two. a sweet exchange of a firm gripped hand shake and small talk before you went on your way. upon his sight, he was already fond of the beauty you blossomed. he wasn’t able to stop himself from looking… and as time continued, each day you met with him, it caused him to be in his head.

whenever you agreed to go out with your coworkers to local bars and restaurants, he’d ask around, passively, wanting to know if you’d be there to join. any chance he’d get, he’d sit next to you or across from you, thinking that the lack of lighting would hide the fact that he sat there to study you— his gentle hazel eyes, staring with eagerness… tattooing you into the grooves of his brain. each time you all went out, it was as if he tried harder… or lost the ability to care if you noticed or not. catching his eyes… for the first few seconds he didn’t even realize your attention on him until you’d call out his name a few times or lean towards him, breasts spilling from your top.

he’d go home, all eager. undoing his tie and his belt, slamming his door shut and making his way towards his bed, muttering: “just this once…” to himself, staring down at his hardened dick after thinking about the way your breasts sat prettily in the top you wore.

with his eyes squeezed shut, his wrist rippled in fast motion with whitening knuckles. he’d call out your name. each whinier than the last… feeling the weight of your name kiss the head of his cock— irregular breathing, toes curling into the thick of his comforter— whines that turned into a chants. over and over again he moaned your name, not even lasting three minutes until he let himself go… ribbons of his hot cum falling down onto his chest.

shame filtered his body almost instantaneously, not understanding how he was able to let himself go just from a simple top you wore… he swore to himself that that would be the first and only time he’d ever do something like that— to rush into his house just to relieve the growing hard on that you, without much acknowledgment, gave him.

and for a few days, he hadn’t. it didn’t stop the stares or the way his cock jumped upon hearing your voice… he’d just fall back into the same perverted state, clutching onto the arm of his work chair while you talked to him about something he couldn’t even pay much attention to. he saw the outline of your body against your work outfit thinking about how you’d look if he ripped it off.

his breathing quickened as he tried to direct his gaze on something else, his computer… maybe his paperwork? it didn’t help because he could still hear you fucking speak.

a sharp gulp and a shaky sigh— it was the most obvious he’s ever been, sensing the way he was unable to sit still. “james?” you called out, amusement lingering in the tone of your voice.

“uhm.” he huffed, a faint smirk curling at the side of his lips, trying to keep his composure as much as he could. “sorry… im not feeling too well.” turning his head to you, seeing a warm, devious yet alluring smile rest on your lips. almost immediately, he reacted. swallowing hard and clearing his throat.

walking towards where the man sat, you placed your hand at his shoulder, feeling the softness of his suit glide against your palm, finding his averting eyes, “do you need me to… get you anything?”

he shook his head, flinching upon touch, dropping his attention into his lap where his hands bunched to cover the obvious dent. “it… it’s fine. i just have to use the restroom… excuse me.” his voice quick and slurred, body immediately jumping up from his chair as he made his way to the men’s bathroom.

the beat of his heart ran heavily in his ribcage, causing his body to burn and wither as he laid himself limply against the bathroom’s door. each inhale was harder to stabilize— the air feeling heavy and clunky as it lumped and fell down his throat. with the soft jingle of his belt, he pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees, “god…” he sighed, wrapping his hand around his cock— hot and tortured, “why do you… why do you turn me on so much?”

soft chokes and mutters fell in the echoing bathroom’s walls, covering his mouth creating muffled whimpers to exude and swell. his body churned and trembled, hearing the loose hinges of the door combat with his movement. “fuck… fuck…” he whined, his eyes traveling up to see the mirror across the way.

the sight of himself… it almost looked like his own reflection was a stranger. no person has ever made him have the need to run for a quick release… at least not from their voice alone. it was just how eager he was— how eager you made him— the look of his knees buckling, the pace of his pumps, the skin of his face shake and the way he desperately tried to keep himself quiet… he looked so pathetic to himself, never seeing that side or noticing how much you made him that way just from the sight of you.

in a way… it turned him on, getting a better picture of what you’d see if you were to stand in this very bathroom. thoughts grappled through his visionary mind, his vision shooting towards different places in the bathroom, looking at the sink: how pretty you’d look, pants down your legs with him fucking up into you, your own eyes in the mirror, watching yourself getting fucked by him. or in the stall: your fingers clutching harshly at the stall’s door with his fingers deeply plunging itself inside of your cavern.

a million and one things infiltrated his desires until he couldn’t find himself to stop even after the first time he came onto the bathroom’s floor. his wrist burned with the consistent motion, after his cock hadn’t let up its hardness, moaning as quietly as he could to have himself go limp.

thirty minutes he spent in there… and for him to be known to cum quick… it only meant that he rung himself dry. he couldn’t even walk straight— you knowingly understanding the weight of power you had over him after you timed his absence and him finally waddling back into his chair.

“you alright?” you laugh sweetly, being as oblivious as you could possibly be within his perspective, trying not to stare at the small wet spot that circled at his crotch.

“yeah…” his voice trembling, still in a daze from his multiple orgasms, “must’ve ate something funny…”

after that day… jerking off in the office’s bathroom, there was no turning back— as if that was the only reason that would’ve been true. there was no way he’d be able to contain the continuous passion that resonated all throughout his body— as if you talked to him through your idle.

days would pass and he’d show himself more and more obvious, losing the care to show off his usual persona. he’d take one of your handkerchiefs you left on your desk when you hadn’t been around, tucking them in his pockets only to inhale the left over scent that interwoven itself into its soft cloth, using it almost every night until all he could smell was his own scent. he’d hold onto your wrist when trying to grab your attention, clutching it until he felt the gentle pulse, syncing with the growing hard on he’d feel build and tighten at the crotch of his pants.

on random days, he’d listen when you spoke to other’s about the dates you’ve been on, hearing how they werent satisfying you— filling his brain with possible ways he’d make you feel good. taking you out to eat with good food and wine with an even better conversation only to have him balls deep inside of you just for you to remember nothing from anyone in your past and only form yourself at the outline of his cock.

on a sunny afternoon, you had a held a party for your birthday— all the coworkers you found as friends, including james— in your house for drinks, food and good music. you kept your eye on him as much as you could without making it obvious that the only reason for the party was to see how he’d react now being so close to you.

he showed nothing but nervousness, almost never leaving the cushions from your couch, not even drinking or eating for that matter. he looked uncomfortable… or maybe he was just deep in thought. it only took one look away for him to disappear, his lack of person and the indent of where he sat on the couch to be shown.

james decided he needed more… that handkerchief wasn’t enough since your scent was gone and his imaginations made his want physically hurt considering he wasn’t able to touch you like he wished he could.

finding his way to your room, he rummaged through your dirty laundry, finding a pair of black panties, keeping it to himself. in a cold sweat, he knew that he had time to spare, whipping his head back and forth from the cloth towards your bedroom door before he sat on your bed, rolling his thumb at the crotch of your underwear.

deep and staggered breaths, he rose it up to his nose, smelling the soiled cloth, noticing how these pair must’ve been worn during your arousal, his cock reacting like wildfire— choking at the lack of air he gave himself from the constant huffing he did. each inhale was like heaven. god… your pussy smelt so good… better than he could imagine. the muscle of his tongue sliding at the left over cream marks left, his moans staggering, almost in need of crying at how good this action made him feel.

placing the underwear in his mouth, he grabbed what was closest to him— your pillow— angling his body to get himself off. luckily with how loud the music had been outside, no one would be able to hear the brash creeks of your bed as he humped himself to oblivion. hips snapping, fingers curling into your bed’s unmade sheets with his face planted deep within them as he sniffed whatever your body’s scent leftover.

this is what he wanted… this is what he feened for. only orgasming once, he fixed your bed trying to replicate as if he had never been on it, tucking the panties… and one more in his pants pocket and walking out of your bedroom.

met with him, you smiled, noticing the lust that fumed off of his person, not making it seem as if you knew, “what’re you doing in there? the parties out there silly.” you laughed.

“yeah! i was just looking for the bathroom.” he gulped.

nodding, you ran your tongue over the bottom of your lip, eyeing how his hair wasn’t as neat as it had been before and his shirt wasn’t tucked in as it usually was. “it’s just down there.”

“thank you.” scattering down the hall.

upon entering your room, all you could smell was the foreign aroma of his arousal, smiling at how you didn’t even had to do anything to him physically let alone verbally and he got so worked up. riddled with temptation, you knew you had this man wrapped around your finger, obliging with his action and giving him more with your seductive nature.

it was more noticeable now— how you both operated whenever with each other. anyone could just sense it, feel it, cut it in the thickening air of their razor nails. the body languages, the way you both spoke, the way your eyes spoke with extreme intent.

the tingling sensation rose within your body, almost electrifying you whenever you heard your name being called by him— his natural rasp that croaked from his throat, huddling over your eardrums with bliss. you could only guess what he did that day when he bolted off into the bathroom. it was obvious. feeling your attraction grow by his attentiveness and the willingness of him trying so desperately to be beside you… just thinking about him got you so worked up.

it was fun witnessing his obvious need to separate himself just to get off… but the poor boy needed solace you thought to yourself.

he was being such a good boy, trying so hard not to put himself onto you, being respectful enough, kind and excusing himself but you decided to take charge— have him finally able to get what he wanted and what you were curious about.

one night, you took that advantage as everyone else had dispersed from the office, it had only been you two, him hunched in his chair, face glowing from his computer screen and you packing all of your work to go home. he usually stayed overtime, having his own set of keys the boss left because of his repetitive stay.

now you stood within his space, the office dark, a low hum coming from james not even noticing your silhouette that stood just at his cubicle. “you going home?” you spoke out, your voice lulling out.

startled, he turned at his chair, swallowing down the large lump that rested at his throat. “oh!” he chirped, looking back and forth at the shadow that made up of you and his computer screen. “uh not yet… there’s some things i have to finish.”

“could it wait? just for a little?”

furrowing his eyebrows, he sat confused, noticing the tone of your voice, feeling his palms dampen, rubbing them roughly at his pant legs.

oh how cute he was acting.

“sorry i..” he chuckled nervously, “im confused.”

sucking at your tongue, you stepped forward, the screen’s light falling at your outline, exposing the lust that mixed in with the devious expression that wore on your face. “don’t give me that look,” you cooed, closing the distance between you both until your feet planted themselves just before him. “tell me, what has you still in this office this late at night?”

“uhm yeah…” he chuckled again, his words slow as he spoke about the finishing touches of a project that had been due in a few days. quite honestly, you hadn’t cared much to know, you just enjoyed the random inhales of breath in between his words as he tried to keep his composure at bay.

“such a good man you are. i take it your work ethic is better than all of us combined?”

he cleared his throat, tilting his head in nervousness at the choice of words that trickled down, aiming at his spine with him tensing in his chair. “th… thank you.”

“but you should take a break, you seem all pent up. that isn’t healthy, don’t you think?”

“what do you purpose?” he asked with you humming in response.

the silence between that fell in the air was loud, burning against your eardrums until you heard his breathing coming in shallow wheezes, his chest tightening as his heart hammered at his ribcage. he couldn’t even look at you… his head couldn’t lift itself from his hands, fingers tangling with themselves.

“can you look at me?” you soothed.

no response was given, just the raise of his body at every heavy inhale.

“look at me james…” your voice now coming out as a whisper, using your hand to curl at his jaw, feeling the roughness of the stubble that ran alongside it. at a gentle lift, his face rose, his eyes staggering to follow until you saw the gentle, puppy-eyed man lock himself onto you. “that’s it..”

at the tilt of his head, his body hiccuped in a trickling gasp. every memory of him being by himself, jerking his hardening cock, the sounds of his own pleasuring cries echoed in his brain. it burned at his cheeks with a peach strain— embarrassed but enamored by the sway of your lulling voice and kind eyes. the cold that emitted from your hand felt like static, almost foreign, unable to comprehend that you where here, actually touching him and it wasn’t just his perverted mind conjuring up a scene of you having your way with him.

just by your simple touch, it felt raw and ravenous—body stiffening like tainted brittle bones… his spine slowly contorting in a fidgeting arch, like christ himself pressed his jellied pierced palms across the flesh of an aching wound. “fuck…” he breathed, giving up on his lose of current reality, placing his own hand on top of yours, sliding it more onto his own face. he buried himself in it, eyes closing, falling into a blissful state, feeling the warmth that blossomed and coddled at his skin.

his mind and his body was starved… in need of you as if the only sin he knew was nothing but greed— believing the palms of your hands was magic, a bandage to a scab, an antidote to a sickness. you did nothing but stand there, watching him revel in pleasure just from your hand now stroking his face slowly and delicately, admiring the sweet yet sorrowful pout drawn at his lips.

“follow my words.” you spoke, interrupting the silence between you both, “can you do that for me james?”

his eyes dilated, feeling his stomach drop hearing his name being called. it drove him mad and it only was because of your voice— so gentle and sweet, thick as if he could gnaw on it. “yes…” he finally answered.

standing behind him, you let the pressure of your hands massage his back, feeling the tension reside in his shoulders. you could feel his irregular breathing at every push your fingers gave, knuckles whitening at the clutch of his pant legs. “oh wow you’re so tense… why is that?”

“just… all the work is getting to me.”

“yeah?” your voice obvious in sensuality, hearing his grunt when you let the pressure fall a little rougher. a quiet exchange of noises bounced back and forth with comforting and pent up sighs, spending a good few minutes, trailing your hands down the sides of his arms, “you’re pretty built underneath this suit.” you teased.

clenching his eyes tight, he screamed at himself internally, trying to speak to his cock to not harden but it failed, looking down at his lap and seeing what the computer’s light was able to show, letting out a quiet laughing hum. you had him now…

“stand… and kiss me.”

and so he stood, his arms awkwardly at his sides, broadcasting his awful posture as he waited for your next move. from a simple swift movement, your hand met with the back of his neck, pulling him in, pressing your lips against his. the sync of your lips were soft and slow but quickly it changed by the lead of his tongue that cascaded along the bottom of yours, inhaling the hitching breath as his fingers played with the bottom of his suit jacket.

gentle grunts hummed against your flesh, opening your lips to oblige by his speed, noting the way he drank your existence in the exchange of your mouths. his tongue fluttered against yours, rolling the tip of his muscle against the ridges of your teeth, spit spilling down one another’s chins as your bodies fell closer into one another feeling the pattern of your breathing fall as one.

your leg pressed in the middle of his, feeling his bulge rub against you with a higher pitched moan being a gift of your sudden embrace.

the air was hot and heavy despite the chill from the office that hugged you both, "ride it.." you moaned in between the kiss, moving your leg in slow grinds, feeling the heat that emitted from his clothed cock weave through your work pants.

“okay…” he answered back, removing himself from the kiss as his hips started to buck forward in motion with your leg’s movement.

his body couldn’t keep up with the burning passion that continued to spread through his body, starting with the aching sensation that rested at his cock.

no words had been exchanged, only moans as if it that was the only language you both understood— the lack of light only being laminated by the moon that fell through the windows and the computer screen. your hand strengthened its grip, foreheads pressed against one another, feeling his leg fall in between your leg in the midst of his grinds.

both of you fell in lust with the eager grinds you shared, hearing the rut of clothes being rubbed against one another, his unknowing hands, placing its purpose at your hips, gripping incredibly tight, pulling you closer at every hungered thrust, your eyes gulping the color of his.

he moved his body, you whining quietly at the empty feeling of his knee. he dropped down, leveling his face at your legs, pressing kisses starting at your ankle and to your knee, moving his lips as his tongue peaked through, letting spit form and absorb in the cloth of your pants until he reached your waist.

"may i...?” he whimpered, a smile curling at your lips, nodding with his fingers making its way to your shirt, yanking it upwards which made you gasp at the sudden movement. he continued his kiss, the cold inhale of his breath washing against your skin as he pressed his lips at the lining of your peaking underwear, running his tongue alongside it.

with a deep press of his lips, he left wet marks, pressing his face into your stomach, his head dragging all the way up your torso, inhaling the sweet smell of your detergent as well as the soap that coated your skin, until he stood once again, finding your neck, taking a bite without much warning— feeling the flesh sink between the spaces in his teeth. 'so soft', he thought, letting his lips latch and suck roughly, as he used his unoccupied hand to pull your body closer to him.

his tongue rippled and rolled against the aching bitten part of your neck, popping himself off before he pressed a kiss at the hem of your ear, "is this real?" he whispered, pressing more kisses at the side of your face. it felt prosperous, feeling his lips scatter the smooth surface of your face, neck and ear— fingers prodding the side of your waist.

"can you say it… please?” releasing a sharp gasped whisper, his nose dragging along your cheek, sighing out a moan. "say…my name... i need to hear your voice.”

"james..." you exhaled, enjoying the way he wanted nothing but your time and your attention. he made you feel sexy.. desirable, like his own drug that he was unable to let go or take control of. every touch felt purposeful, hungry… soft with a strain of roughness.

"no... louder. say it... please say it louder." his words breathless, cracking each time his voice dipped in register, letting open mouthed kisses to gently press onto your skin.

"james!" your voice rose, saying it over and over at every press of his lips you felt, his moans talking back to each time he heard his name flutter from your throat. your voice felt like it was running down his spine and settling itself right at his cock. you adored how cute he was without even knowing that you wanted to devour him— the sharp want to have him crumble in your embrace.

“fuck..” he cried sweetly, his voice breaking down in harmony. you placed your hands at his shoulders pushing him down as he obeyed your forceful action, him now on his knees.

without a thought, you pressed the bottom of your shoe at his obvious bulge, pressing your weight on it, his body shuddering with his lips ajar. “tell me…” your diction sounding breathless, feeling the outline of him through the sole of your shoe, “do you think of me… while you touch yourself.” his eyes growing, surprised and slightly worried— not as if it wasn’t telling he came at the thought of you.

he couldn’t answer, only giving a harsh swallow and swiveling hips, humping into the sole of your shoe.

“come on pretty boy… answer… i know you do it.”

“yes…” he gulped, “i do… i do. all the fucking time.” he admitted, his words flowing fast with his hips coming at the same speed.

placing your foot down on the floor, he immediately straddled, hands grabbing onto your calf for support as his hips rippled and rutted deeply into you like a horned dog. whimpers roared through the office’s enclosure. he felt dizzy, drunk within the lust that spewed between you both. it was pitiful but cute— losing all forms of self just to hump on your shoe.

grasping his jaw, he looked up at you, eyebrows knitted in pleasure as his hair bounced in movement, leaning down the gather spit, letting it fall into his opened mouth. he drank it instantaneously, nodding at the new action he had never done before. your spit tasted sweet, filling his mouth with an extended tongue in need of more.

and so you did, this time more forceful, some falling at the side of his lip, falling down his jaw and chin.

something about how he acted, the way he presented himself and the way his nervousness wore him so brightly. you could hear it his voice, in his moans, see in his eyes, face and body— nothing he had in display for you showed you otherwise. cupping the side of his face as your thumb gently stroked the warmth of his cheek, making his cock jump more than it already had.

“you like that don’t you baby?”

“uh huh…” he breathed, frantically nodding, letting his eyes drape towards your lips, seeing his tongue peak through, pressing your thumb at his plush lips, dragging them loosely, until his lips would tug, allowing his teeth to peak through before leaning in closer to his until being inches apart— irregular breathing brush against your mouth, as his nose nudges gently the side of yours, kissing you roughly… wet and raw. more spit escaping, coating all over.

“can i…” he spoke in between, “can i taste you?”

and with an accepting moan, his body rose, grabbing you until you sat on his desk, the light of his computer now black and the moon being the only source of light.

opening your legs, he leaned in, his middle finger ran between your clothed, wet slit. raising his head, he looked down at you, “holy fuck… how’re you so wet? i can feel it through your pants,” he taunted, gaining a small glint of confidence.

he lifted your shirt once more, just enough to show your full stomach as he held onto your waist, pressing his lips right beneath your breast, leaving slow, teasing kisses down your body with his eyes staring right up at you. his face met up in between, spreading your thighs apart more as he let his face set right in center, pressing his nose right in the indention where his finger once was, inhaling your sweet smell before rolling his tongue over her clothed pussy. “your pussy smells so sweet.” he breathed, his fingers curling at your pants and yanking them down until you were only left with them puddled at your feet and panties hugging your waist.

his mouth latched onto your clit, slowly sucking you right over your panties, feeling your throbbing bud feather against his tongue.

sliding your panties to the side, he saw the wetness connect from your pussy lips, to your clit, running all down your slit, immediately spreading your lips apart, seeing your whole view.

“so… pretty... god i wanna fuck it with my tongue. have my tongue so deep inside you, i can feel you clench yourself. can i… can i do that?” his eyes not leaving your face, seeing the limited and minimal expression the moon’s light allowed him to see, letting his tongue run up your slit as his mouth latches on.

nothing felt more pleasurable than to see the other pleased. his fingers trembled and ached to take you all in one go, but he believed you deserved more than that, you deserved to feel it run through every inch of your body. he wanted to prove that there’s levels you could reach that’ll make you feel like ecstasy.

his body burned as if he was on fire, feeling himself twitch at every small sound that exuded from your throat. “your voice, it turns me on so fucking much...” gripping onto your thighs, his nose nudging at your clit, mouth hovering over your cunt, drawing ribbons at the entrance of your pussy. he shook his head from side to side, your sweet scent filling his airway as he felt your slick coat the sides of his lips and the tip of his nose.

his tongue plunging itself into you, feeling your cunt pulsate alongside the bud of your clit. as his tongue worked along your slit and hole, repeatedly lapping at each entrance with the flat of their tongue. your scent and flavor enveloping his entire face, like a drug, and erotic perfume that he’d gladly wear if possible. his eyes drooping into a squint, his body loosening— expect the core of his tightening abdomen from holding his breath and their increasingly hard cock. thrusting his face as he began to fuck you with his tongue, hollowing his cheeks, continuing to pay close attention to your clit. pulling back, he licked his lips, gathering spit as he spat right on your cunt, followed by a little slap, rubbing with the palm of his hand against the new tingling sensation, “was that… was that too much?” he slurred, not thinking of the impact of what he had just done with the pleasured yelp you let out.

“you’re such a dirty boy…” you laughed, your hips breaking down as it planted itself more into his desk. “keep going… show me what a horny little thing like you thinks about while you touch yourself.”

drunk of you— the taste, the smell, he could feel a pit of sensation fuel right at the bottom of his abdomen. “hump my face baby, please…use me.”

with his tongue, he lifted your clitoral hood, centering his tongue right at your clit as he fluttered it as fast as his tongue allowed him too, feeling your expose bud jolt. using his other hand, he slid one finger in, curling it slightly as he slowly let it slide in and out, feeling your walls close. the sounds you let out couldn’t be controlled, admiring how he used your body like an art piece, finding his way to use every fragment of your being, getting off to your pleasure. each knuckle falling deeper, as he started to bring up his pace. so wet, you could hear it at each pump, and god did that turn him on. “listen to your pussy baby. my god you’re so wet..”

loving the feeling of your fingers that now laced in his hair, tugging at it whenever you felt so, feeling the tingle wash from down his scalp and spine, making him groan deeply against your, feeling it almost itch his own throat. his other hand pressing firmly against your stomach, rolling it up your body as he dragged the pads of his fingers down your torso, then thigh, letting them create small indentions in your smooth skin.

he watched as you squirmed as you watched how pathetically invested he looked hooked in pleasure— him yearning for this type of attention, as if he cried for it. his eyes begged and begged, his actions looking less and less sense and out of touch of reality. your hips, not having a rhythmic move to them, just rolling and humping as his face kept up with your sloppy hips.

he slide one more finger inside, curling that one as well as his others as he turned his wrist in a circular motion, almost drilling your cunt, pushing it in and out, trying to find your sweet spot. he lifted his head, letting a string of spit and slick connect from his lips and your pussy. “keep looking at me… please don’t stop.” the sting burning at his forearm— veins now prominent running from his fingers and down wrist. your pussy making the most loudest and obnoxious noise, syncing with the pacing of his hand and mouth.

his face traveled up, his face now hovering yours, paying close attention to your expression and the way you moaned for him, furrowing his eyebrows, “yeah? does it feel good right there?” he cooed, singing with your moans which filled the space that surrounded you both. he gathered spit in his mouth once more, letting it go straight into your mouth— your hand out of his hair and to his face, holding his jaw and feeling the grooves of his teeth by how hard you held it.

“god you’re so good for me.” you grunted, eyes almost rolling at the feeling of his fingers plunging at your cunt.

gritting through his teeth, “and you drive me insane…” pressing his mouth against yours once more as he started to sloppily kiss you— your slick already coating his mouth and tip of his nose, now swallowing your moans. his breathing was erratic and his demeanor changed, feeling a sense of lustful malice grow in his body.

hurriedly, you undid his pants, slipping your hand in his underwear, taking out his hot heavy cock, his body immediately reacting with his hand holding the desk beside you for support. without hesitation, you jerked his cock, finding the same speed of his plunging fingers.

shared and eager moans radiated from you both, whiny and pathetic, desperate and conjoined— the sweet sounds of your wet slick and his skin being tugged at his cock.

“don’t stop.” he strained, already feeling himself in need to release, never being one to last longer than he wished to.

spit dripping from one another’s mouths, the tension continued to rise, the familiar sensation cradling at your core as well as his. clenching around his fingers, your thighs started to close themselves, him quickly opening them as he breathed in a choked gasp.

“are you gonna cum for me?” you teased, knowing you were right where he was, his body twitching as he nodded in response, “cum for me… do it james.”

a loud groan crept as he removed your hand, replacing it with his as he jerked his cock in a speed you had never seen from another man, directing his slit right at your clit. spurts of his cum fell right at your clit, the sight being too much for you to handle— the head from it, sliding down to his fingers as he continued his hungered pumps, an orgasm ringing around it. it creamed thickly, white cuddling at his knuckles.

both of your bodies fell weak, the speed now resting slow as you tried to gather your breaths, eyes connecting as one as you recollected all the passion that infiltrated.

“my god…” you breathed, his fingers coating in your natural nectar and his cum, inhaling your womanly scent which sent waves of pleasure directly towards his cock that started to rise again. god… did he love the way your fucking pussy smelt. it didn’t compare to your handkerchief… your bed… even your used panties. his fingers slipping out as he placed them in his mouth, each finger being sucked clean. “you’re so fucking hot…”

the intensity that fueled you both was too much to comprehend. no words being able to be spoken— james blinded by the beauty and the smell of sex that fumed in the air. after all the days of him tugging his cock, the thoughts became real.

his face hovered yours, hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed gentle kisses across your lips, “can i...” he gasped in between each kiss, heavy air pushing through his nostrils as he tried desperately not to pass out from the adrenaline and the need to feel you, overwhelm you and just make you cum from his dick. “can i fuck you…? please… please… please please please please please…” his voice cracking in between.

the need that laced in your whine transmitted through the thick of his burning skin. it was hard to contain steady breathing. mine, he thought. you were all his for the night, and it signified that you were in this very moment.

lips feathering against your chin, each kiss longer than the last, with his nose nudging up into your cheek. just from the quiet sounds you let out, your consent, your ‘okay’ to put his dick inside of you made the way he felt more intense than it already had. his fingers wrapping around the start of his shaft as he started to pump himself.

“you can tell me if you want me to fuck you slow…” he continued, cupping his hand to his lips and spitting in it, making a small puddle to coat his dick. “or if you want me to fuck you fast… tell me… tell me to keep fucking you… tell me… just talk for me… please.”

his eyes jolted down as his cock angled itself right at your opening pushing himself inside. just half of what would be his tip, focused only on you. sucking in harshly at how big he was and how he wasn’t even all the way in. with his other hand cupping the side of your face and neck, his thumb rubbing gently.

“you okay baby…?” his attention still on you, analyzing each expression you gave to make sure that he wasn’t hurting you in any shape or form, pressing a long kiss at the side of your cheek beside your ear, “im going to keep going okay…? just breathe for me…”

they pushed more, his tip fully being in your cunt. his body shuttered… you were so warm, you were tight and held him so comfortably, if you wanted him to stop right there, it’d be enough for him to cum. anything for you was enough for him. bodies slowly enveloping on another as he tried to talk to your body in a way that gave you comfort and pleasure. “more?” he breathed, it hitching as he mindlessly held his breath, pushing more of himself into you— your hot walls holding around the start of his shaft, textured and wet, with a heartbeat that almost felt as if you were sucking him in without his go.

a pornographic moan being spewed from james’ lips. the way your cunt grasped onto him, it's textured walls massaging his cock into heaven. you felt full, his dick thick— leaning towards girth— your breathing picking up in pace. you molded his cock perfectly, his hips slowly pressing himself deeper until his hole cock was enveloped in you. "goo...good boy." you tried to praise, hiccuping as your hands fell onto his shoulders.

the thrust started off slow, hiccuping almost similar to his rut against your shoe. it took a few thrusts until he finally was able to find himself— barely. each inward thrust, the desk shook, your body sliding upwards against his paperwork that scattered and crumpled.

“is this… is this okay?” his voice broken, hearing the new diction in his tone.

“faster… don’t be shy…”

you didn’t have to tell him twice, his hips momentarily stopping as he planted his feet firmly on the ground— animalistic groans combating the way his hips started to snap. each thrust, your rear puckering hole was abused by james’ balls. again and again, the loud rhythmic sound of your skin slapping. "good boy, keep fucking me. make me cum."

the tip of his dick angling in a place you were unsure about. what was this? you thought. your body was excited and you didn't know why— you didn't know how to prepare yourself. your body unable to stay still or find a place where you felt the best in stabilization, screaming his name as he finally hit that spot, your good spot.

"don't stop! don't stop! don't stop! don't—" you chanted, him hitting your g spot over and over with your pussy sucking him in deeper and deeper at each outward thrust.

"i wish i fucked you sooner, why does this feel so good?!" already having the need to cum with no intention of holding it.

you as well. you needed to cum, but you felt something new as well. the similarly feeling of you needed to 'go'.

"waitwaitwaitwait!!!" you moaned out loud, his cock slipping out with an unexpected gift being brought to both of you. you squirted. it spilling from your cunt and drenching on the both of you— your face, his work clothes and your work clothes. you had no time to react, your legs violently shook, with james hurriedly slipping in again with the same need to release centering at the opening of your cunt.

"ineeedto... i... fuhhhcking" you slurred, eyes rolling each time james pulled out, your pussy let out small spurts of your squirting cum.

"that is so fucking hot... you're so hot." james cried, tears rimming in his eyes, feeling himself having the need to cum.

one leg wrapped his waist pushing him down, rolling your hips upward even though it was all too much, but your cunt wanted more, it felt like it could cum at least one more time. grabbing your face, your lips forming a squished 'o'.

"fuck...fucking good boy." your voice fucked out.

"it feels too good… i can’t take it." he continued to wail, tears started to stream down his face. "im gonna—" he announced with one finally thrust, james let his hot load rest deep inside you.

one could say his dream was now complete, but a new question shall be asked; how will this continue? from being ‘friends’, horny individuals to fuck at work. but for now, you both continued to calm down from your high, kissing each other sweetly.

“this won’t be the last time.” you smiled triumphantly, trying to catch your breath.

a/n: i never know how to end these… but maybe there will be another part…

[seriiousgiirl]

𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁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 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. Three years after the harrowing events in Silent Hill, James Sunderland has survived the haunting memories of his past but carries the heavy burden of grief and guilt. Adopting Laura, James strives to create a normal life for them both, but the echoes of his former life linger, haunting him in moments of solitude.

As he navigates the challenges of fatherhood and a corporate job, James grapples with PTSD and the lingering shadows of his late wife, Mary. His daily interactions are fraught with anxiety, especially when it comes to Laura's teacher, Y/n. Young, vibrant, and filled with warmth. But as Y/n becomes an unexpected source of comfort and tension in James's life. He is drawn to her kindness and beauty, yet he feels undeserving of her attention, burdened by the ghosts of his past.

When Y/n reaches out with genuine concern for James's well-being, he wrestles with feelings of guilt, lust and longing, torn between the desire for connection and the fear of betraying Mary's memory. As James's pent-up frustrations bubble to the surface, he finds himself navigating a complicated emotional landscape where love, loss, and redemption intertwine.

❛ Part 2 ⋅ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ⋅ requests ❜

➜ ┊ a/n: Hello everyone! After years of being more or less in the Silent Hill fandom, the remake rather inspired me... :') After seeing how cute James is in it, I felt like I was rediscovering his character. The story is a bit different from what we usually see, but I hope it will appeal to the (few, I don't think many would be interested in a silent hill fanfic) people who read it.

➜ ┊: chapter 1/?.

James woke up again, his body snapping upright in bed, his breath ragged and uneven as if he had just surfaced from drowning. His chest rose and fell with frantic breaths that refused to calm, his heart hammering against his ribcage like a prisoner desperate to escape. The room around him was silent, still, and blanketed in shadows, the faintest silver glow of the moon seeping through the thin, worn curtains. It painted his surroundings in an eerie light, enough to make out the vague shapes of his furniture but not enough to chase away the weight of the darkness.

He knew it was early—much too early. The alarm on his nightstand wouldn’t go off for hours, not until the unforgiving numbers clicked over to 7 a.m. He set it religiously, every night, clinging to the hope that one day he’d wake naturally to the sound, as if that simple act could restore some semblance of normalcy to his broken life. 

But that never happened.

James never woke peacefully anymore. His body, his mind, refused to grant him that mercy. Instead, he jolted awake in a cold sweat, his body rigid, his pulse racing. Each time, it felt as though he was being pulled from some unseen nightmare—ripped out of a hellish dreamscape that he couldn’t remember clearly but always left its mark. The fear, the panic, the suffocating sense of dread stayed with him, lingering like smoke in the air long after his eyes had adjusted to the dim glow of his bedroom.

He pressed his palm against his face, wiping away the sheen of sweat that clung to his skin. His body felt tense, coiled like a spring that had been wound too tightly. His muscles ached from the constant strain, from the battles he fought every night within the confines of his mind. The nightmares weren’t just dreams. They were fragments of a past that refused to stay buried, haunting him in the dead of night when the world outside was quiet and his mind had no distractions to keep the demons at bay.

The medication bottles on his bedside table gleamed faintly in the moonlight, their labels worn from use. He reached for them out of habit, his fingers brushing the cool surface, but he didn’t open them. No matter how many pills he swallowed, how many prescriptions doctors wrote, nothing ever worked. Sleep was supposed to be a sanctuary, a refuge from the waking world, but for James, it had become another battleground.

He let his hand drop back to his lap, staring down at his shaking fingers. He could feel the tension still coursing through him, the residue of whatever nightmare had dragged him awake. His body hadn’t yet realised he was safe, that it was just a dream, and the adrenaline still pumped through his veins. Every night, it was the same—this restless terror that clung to him, trapping him in a cycle he couldn’t escape. He longed for sleep, yet feared it in equal measure, knowing that the darkness of his subconscious held more horrors than the light of day ever could.

For a moment, he considered lying back down, closing his eyes, and trying again. 

But the thought alone made his stomach twist.

With a sigh, James decided to give up on sleep altogether. There was no use lying there, waiting for his heart to calm down or for the remnants of his nightmare to fade. His legs still trembled as he swung them over the side of the bed, the cool floor beneath him grounding him just enough to pull himself up. The shadows in the room seemed to shift as he stood, though he knew it was his mind playing tricks again. He had long stopped trusting the darkness.

He moved carefully, trying to stay silent as he made his way to the door, not wanting to wake Laura. She was the only constant in his life now, the only reason he hadn’t completely unravelled. But even the thought of her, sleeping peacefully down the hall, wasn’t enough to ease the tremor in his hands. As he stepped out of the bedroom, the familiar creak of the floorboards echoed too loud in the silence of the house, and for a fleeting moment, his breath hitched.

Sometimes, in these quiet hours, he could swear he heard them—the monsters. That same sickening creaking sound they made, their grotesque forms dragging across the cold. Or worse, the heavy, slow scrap of metal—a blade being dragged along the ground. His body tensed, instinctively waiting for the ominous presence of that thing— he came to call Pyramid Head. He hadn’t seen it in three years, but its presence still lingered, like a ghost lurking in the corners of his mind. His chest tightened as he imagined that scraping sound growing closer, louder, but he knew… or at least, he tried to convince himself it wasn’t real. Not anymore.

On the worst days, though, it wasn’t just the monsters. 

Sometimes, he would hear her—Mary. Her voice, soft and sweet, like the Mary he remembered before everything went wrong, calling out to him. It always started the same way, a gentle whisper at first, like she was in the next room, waiting for him. And each time, it grew louder, more urgent, until it was a siren’s call, relentless and cruel. It was enough to make his heart stop, to make him question everything, and then he’d remember—he knew where that call would lead. Straight into oblivion. Straight into the abyss of his own guilt.

On other nights, he could swear he felt Maria—her warmth next to him in bed, the way her body would press against his. It was so vivid, so painfully real, as though she hadn’t died in his arms multiple times, as though Silent Hill hadn’t swallowed her whole. She had been a ghost, a reflection of everything he had lost, and yet… sometimes she felt alive in those moments. His doctors told him it was all hallucinations, the remnants of trauma deeply embedded in his mind. Certified and explained away in clinical terms, but knowing that didn’t change how real it felt in those fleeting, terrifying seconds.

Even now, as he stood in the hallway, his breath uneven, James couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere—beneath the layers of his fragile reality—the horrors were still there, watching, waiting.

James padded quietly into the kitchen, his bare feet brushing against the cool tiles as he reached for a glass. The water flowed smoothly from the tap, cool and refreshing, and he drank it straight, the crispness washing over him. It helped clear his mind, if only for a moment, pushing back the lingering echoes of the night’s terrors. 

After finishing the glass, he flicked on the small lamp in the living room, its soft glow spilling light across the space, chasing away the oppressive darkness. He made his way to the couch, settling himself in front of the window, where the city still lay shrouded in early morning silence. Outside, the world was just beginning to stir, but here in this moment, everything felt suspended in time.

They had moved far away from Silent Hill, away from Maine altogether, as if he was still trying to escape the town’s haunting pull. When Laura had expressed her desire for a place near the coast, saying she wanted to feel the warmth of the sun and breathe in the salty scent of the ocean, he had obliged her wishes. It was the least he could do for the little girl who had become his lifeline, the one bright spot in his otherwise dark world. It had taken time, but he had learned to appreciate the small things—like the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the way the sunlight danced on the water’s surface.

He pulled his journal from the side table, the worn leather cover familiar against his fingers. The pages were filled with thoughts, memories, and an ongoing dialogue with himself—one that his doctor had encouraged. Writing was meant to help him sort through his feelings, to separate reality from the nightmares that still clung to him like shadows. It was a way to document the moments that felt tangible, grounding him in the present.

With the pen poised above the page, he took a deep breath, letting the silence of the morning wrap around him. 

Date: [XX/10/1993]

Another night of waking up in a cold sweat. The dreams feel heavier lately, more vivid. I can still hear Mary’s voice sometimes, like she’s calling out to me. I know it’s not real, but the longing… It’s hard to escape. I need to remember that I’m here now. That I have Laura. She needs me to be present. I need to plan my day—take her to the beach, show her the tide pools, maybe? She deserves to explore, to laugh, to feel alive. Maybe it will help me too.

James paused, staring at the words he’d just written. The ink was still wet, and he felt the weight of each line pressing against his chest, a mixture of hope and dread swirling within him. 

He continued, allowing his thoughts to flow onto the page.

I’ve been thinking about the way the ocean looks at dawn. It’s a beautiful sight, the horizon slowly illuminated by the first light of day. I want to share that with Laura. She deserves to see the world as it is. Maybe if I can show her that, it’ll help me remember what it feels like to be alive, too.

He turned the page, feeling the familiar texture beneath his fingertips, grounding him in a moment that felt too fragile. The nightmares are starting to blur again. It’s like I’m drifting between memories and dreams. I know I should talk to Dr. Fischer about it, but I hate feeling so exposed. Every time I sit across from him, it’s like peeling back layers of skin. I don’t want to keep reliving the past, but I also know I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s a part of me now—part of what makes me who I am.

But sometimes, I wonder if I’m doing enough. If I’m enough. Laura is so full of life—she deserves happiness, yet I feel like a ghost in my own home. The laughter that fills this place is often followed by a silence that weighs heavily on me, as if I’m a spectator in my own life, watching a play where I don’t belong. 

He paused, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, fighting against the swell of loneliness that threatened to overwhelm him. 

Some days, I can still hear Mary’s laughter, the way it used to light up the room, but now it’s a whisper in the wind. I wish I could reach out to her, ask her for forgiveness, tell her how much I miss her. But she’s gone, and I’m left with nothing but my guilt and the memories that won’t let me go. It’s a bitter irony—I have another chance at life with Laura, yet I feel more alone than ever.

I thought time would heal me, that the scars would fade, but each day feels like a new reminder of what I’ve lost. I watch Laura play, her laughter cutting through the silence, and it fills me with joy and pain all at once. I want to protect her, to shield her from the darkness I carry. But how can I do that when I’m still fighting my own battles?

Anyway, plan for today: Take Laura to the beach, explore the tide pools, and have a picnic.

As he continued to write, the rhythm of his thoughts began to settle, the initial chaos giving way to clarity. He documented everything he hoped to achieve that day, the things that could distract him. 

After some time, the soft patter of small feet echoed in the hallway, and Laura emerged from her room, her hair tousled and her eyes still heavy with sleep. She settled next to James on the couch, curling her legs beneath her as she leaned against his shoulder, still waking up. 

“Did you even sleep at all?” she mumbled, her voice thick with the remnants of slumber. 

James chuckled softly, the sound warm and gentle. “Just a little. You know how it is,” he replied, glancing down at her. The early morning light filtered through the window, illuminating her features and casting a soft glow around them. 

“Not again,” Laura sighed, shaking her head in mock exasperation. “You should really take better care of yourself, you know.”

James smiled, closing his journal and setting it aside, feeling the comforting weight of their shared silence. His relationship with Laura had evolved significantly since that first day they met. In the beginning, there was an undeniable tension, a wall between them built from grief and uncertainty. Laura had been sharp-tongued and defiant, often testing his patience with her stubbornness. But over time, that wall had crumbled, brick by brick, revealing a bond that had become more profound and genuine. 

“Maybe I just like the quiet,” he teased, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. “It gives me time to think.”

Laura rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, right. More like you spend it worrying about everything,” she shot back, her familiar sass coming through. But he could sense the softness in her demeanour, the way she had begun to let him in, and it filled him with gratitude.

There were still moments when she wouldn’t call him “Dad”—it felt too heavy, too final—but there had been instances where the word slipped out, once or twice. The first time he had felt a rush of warmth and something almost like fear at her words. It had caught him off guard, pulling at his heartstrings in a way he hadn’t expected. It was one night after a particularly rough day at school. 

The kids had been relentless, and when she had come home, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She had cried so much that night, seeking solace in his arms, and in that moment of vulnerability, she had whispered it—Dad—like it was a fragile promise, something she wanted to believe in.

He had held her tightly, whispering reassurances as she poured out her heart. It was one of the hardest days for both of them, but that single word had changed everything, reinforcing their bond in ways he never thought possible. 

The shrill sound of James’s alarm cut through the quiet morning, signalling that it was finally 7 a.m. He groaned softly, the sudden noise pulling him from the lingering remnants of his thoughts. “Time to get moving,” he muttered to himself before swinging his legs off the couch and standing up.

“Laura,” he called out gently, “you need to get ready for school.” 

Laura groaned but slowly pushed herself upright, her hair sticking up in tousled spikes. “Do I have to?” she whined, rubbing her eyes.

“Yes, you do,” James replied with a chuckle, heading into the kitchen to start breakfast. He could already hear her muttering under her breath as she dragged herself away from the comfort of the couch, but he couldn’t help but smile at her antics. As he prepared breakfast, the scent of eggs and toast filled the air, mixing with the cool October breeze that slipped in through the slightly ajar window. 

He could hear the soft shuffle of Laura getting ready in the background, her footsteps echoing through the hallway.

When breakfast was ready, he set the table, placing a plate in front of her just as she joined him. They ate together in comfortable silence, the clinking of forks the only sound between them for a few moments. 

“So, there’s this kid in class…” Laura began, her voice a mix of enthusiasm and worry. As she recounted her stories, James listened attentively, nodding along as she shared her concerns about a class project and the kids who were teasing her again. She spoke with an earnestness that made him proud, she was a smart little girl.

“...and I do think the teacher likes me a lot,” she finished, her voice dropping slightly, smiling shyly.

James reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on hers. “You’re doing great, Laura. I’m so proud of you,” he encouraged, hoping to convey his support. 

Once they finished breakfast, he cleared the table while she dashed back to her room to grab her backpack. The familiar morning routine helped ground him, a stark contrast to the chaos that often filled his mind.

Then, James returned to his room, feeling the familiar weight of his thoughts returning. He turned on the water for a shower, the warm spray washing over him, almost as if he were trying to cleanse himself of his sins and guilt. Each droplet felt like it could wash away a little more of his guilt, his pain, and his memories.

After his shower, he stood in front of the mirror, towel drying his ash-blond hair and tidying it up, shaving his stubble. The cold air from outside seeped through the window, sending a shiver down his spine as he dressed for the day. He pulled on a simple shirt and jeans. 

But as James stood in front of his closet, the morning light filtering through the curtains, his gaze fell upon his signature khaki jacket hanging quietly amidst his other clothes. For a moment, he hesitated, his heart tightening.

The jacket felt heavy with the weight of the past. He recalled the feel of it against his skin as he navigated the fog-laden streets, the chill of the air contrasting sharply with the warmth it provided. It had shielded him from the elements, yes, but it had also cloaked him in the pain of his choices, the guilt that clung to him like a second skin. 

James swallowed hard, staring at the jacket, the muted fabric whispering secrets of the past. He could almost hear the echoes of Mary’s voice, feel the pang of loss that accompanied every memory. It was as if the jacket was tainted, infused with the blood and tears of that time—but also her scent, her warmth and gentle touch.

Perhaps… Today, he could indulge himself.

He took a deep breath, fighting against the swell of anxiety that rose within him. This jacket is just a piece of clothing, James, he reminded himself, yet it felt like so much more. With a decisive moment, he pulled it from the hanger and slipped it on, the familiar weight settling comfortably on his shoulders. 

James looked at himself in the mirror, the reflection staring back at him was a man still fighting battles. With a shameful sigh, he adjusted the collar, feeling the jacket’s fabric against his skin. When he stepped outside, the brisk October wind greeted him, a sharp contrast to the warmth inside. 

Laura stood at the door, a look of surprise mixed with concern crossing her face.

“Why are you still wearing that jacket?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she gestured to the fabric. “You know… after everything that happened in...” She couldn’t bring herself to say the name of the haunting town.

James shrugged, a faint smile creeping onto his face. “I still like it. It’s comfortable.” 

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “You’re so weird, James,” she teased, nudging him with her shoulder as they made their way down the path toward the car.

“Weird or not, let’s get you to school on time little girl,” he said, his tone quite firm. Together, they stepped into the brisk morning air, ready to face whatever the day had in store.

‧───────────────

Dropping Laura off at school had become a routine, but for James, it was anything but simple. As they approached the bustling entrance, he felt a familiar tightening in his chest, a sense of dread creeping over him like a heavy fog. It wasn’t the school itself or the noise of children chattering and laughing; it was the attention he attracted.

In a small town where traditional family structures were the norm, a single father with a daughter who didn’t even remotely resemble him stood out like a sore thumb. James had chosen to keep his past private, and he was grateful that Laura’s adoption remained a secret. He avoided any conversations that might lead to questions about their relationship or as to why he was alone, fearing the scrutiny that came with revealing the truth. After all, in the eyes of the world, he was just a man dropping off his daughter, and that was how he wanted it to stay.

As they parked and stepped out of the car, the sun shone brightly, but it felt cold against his skin. He could already sense the gazes of the mothers lingering on him as he helped Laura with her backpack. Their eyes were sharp, curious, sizing him up like sharks circling prey, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of vulnerability. James kept his head down, focusing on Laura as she adjusted her straps and prepared to head inside.

“Have a good day, okay?” he said, forcing a smile as she turned to him, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she waved goodbye.

“Bye, James!” she called, her voice full of cheer as she dashed toward the school gates, her ponytail swinging behind her. 

With her back turned, James felt the full weight of the mothers’ stares. He could almost hear the whispers beneath their breath, speculating about him—why he was alone, where Laura’s mother was, and why they didn’t look alike. It was all too easy to imagine the conclusions they would jump to, and he wanted no part of it. 

Every step he took toward his car felt like walking through a minefield. He avoided eye contact at all costs, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground as he navigated through the throngs of parents and children. Conversations buzzed around him, but he focused solely on his breathing, trying to ignore the anxiety tightening around his chest.

As he passed a small group of mothers standing near the entrance, he couldn’t help but catch snippets of their conversations, even as he tried to block them out.

“Did you see him? He looks so sad,” one of them whispered, her voice dripping with faux concern. “Who could leave such a handsome man alone?”

James felt a familiar flush creep up his neck, a mix of embarrassment and irritation. He quickened his pace, but their comments followed him like shadows.

“I know, right? A single father is so sexy,” another chimed in. “I wish my husband was as committed to our son’s school life.”

He clenched his jaw, biting back a retort. The last thing he wanted was to be part of their gossip, yet he was helpless against the words that floated through the air like smoke. Each compliment felt like a reminder of everything he wanted to avoid—attention, scrutiny, and the inevitable questions.

As he reached the edge of the parking lot, he heard another mother say, “I heard there’s a parents-teacher meeting tonight. Can you imagine? He’ll probably be all alone again. It’s such a shame.”

The words hit him like a cold slap, and he paused, taking a moment to gather himself. The thought of attending the meeting, sent a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over him. Why did they have to bring that up now?

He finally reached his car, fumbling for his keys in his pocket as he tried to push the whispers from his mind. The weight of judgement lingered in the air, but he didn’t look back. He slipped into the driver’s seat, exhaling slowly as he gripped the steering wheel. “Just another day,” he murmured to himself, willing his heart to calm. 

James had avoided women religiously since he came back, erecting barriers around himself that felt both protective and suffocating. The loss of Mary had left a gaping hole in his heart, one that he couldn’t bear to fill with anyone else. Allowing himself to indulge in the warmth of another felt like an insult to her memory.

In the years following her death, he had retreated into himself, building walls high enough to keep the world—and the painful reminders of his past—at bay. He threw himself into fatherhood, pouring all his energy into raising Laura and ensuring she felt loved and secure. She was his anchor, the one bright spot in the dark fog of his grief. Yet, in avoiding connections with women, he had inadvertently created a deep well of pent-up frustrations within himself—frustrations that simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

Every time he caught himself looking at a woman, whether it was a fleeting glance at a passerby or—especially a longer gaze at Laura’s teacher during a school event, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. What am I doing? He would ask himself, immediately diverting his eyes, as if the very act of looking was a betrayal of the love he once held dear. He had convinced himself that he wasn’t ready to move forward, but in truth, he was terrified of what that would mean. 

In the quiet moments, when he was alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the weight of his solitude. The nights grew long and lonely, and sometimes he found himself longing for the comfort of another person—a hand to hold, a voice to soothe him. 

But the thought of crossing that line felt insurmountable, like stepping onto a precipice with no way back. He often wondered if this self-imposed exile was healthy or just a way of avoiding the inevitable. Deep down, he knew that if he ever did let someone in, it would come with a torrent of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face—the guilt, the grief, and the fear of moving on without forgetting.

Sometimes, when the darkness of the night enveloped him and the oppressive solitude weighed heavily upon his chest, James found himself struggling to resist his deepest, most shameful urges. Alone in the dim light of his bedroom, the air thick with silence, he would reach for the only source of warmth he had left—his own body.

But every time he started to jerk himself, trying to think about anyone other than Mary, he would falter. His thoughts would slip, no matter how hard he tried to redirect them. The moment he ventured into the realm of fantasy, attempting to conjure images of the warmth he longed for, his mind would betray him. Instead of the embrace of another, he would see Mary’s face—her soft smile, the way her eyes sparkled with mischief, the lightness in her laughter that had once filled their home. The memory of her enveloped him, suffocating and punishing him in its intensity, and he would feel a deep-seated shame clawing at his insides.

But jerking off while thinking about his dead wife, the one he had killed, felt utterly wrong. 

With a trembling hand, he'd stroke his hardening cock, trying to drown out the memories that haunted him. But no matter how hard he tried to push them away, they always crept back in, taking over his mind and filling him with an overwhelming sense of guilt. Images of Mary would flood his vision, her soft smile and sparkling eyes etched into his mind, along with the lightness of her laughter that once filled their home.

As he stroked faster, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, he could feel the pressure building inside him. But just as he was about to reach the edge of ecstasy, he would see her face again, and the guilt would consume him. How could he possibly find pleasure in this, knowing what he had done to her? 

The guilt was overwhelming, flooding his senses as he would try to push it all away, but it clung to him like a shadow. Tears would fill his eyes, hot and stinging, blurring his vision as the shame washed over him. He would cry, feeling pathetic and broken, as if indulging in his own body was another betrayal on a long list he had made in his mind. How could I even think of anyone else? He would chastise himself, the guilt wrapping around his heart like a vice, squeezing tighter until it became unbearable.

Knowing that he could never truly find solace in this act, James would eventually release his warm cum spilling onto his hand and stomach. But even in the aftermath of his orgasm, the guilt remained, and he would lie there, spent and broken, wondering how he could ever redeem himself.

It was a cycle of longing and despair that left him feeling more isolated than before. He would swipe at his tears, but they would keep coming, relentless and unyielding. The echoes of his cries seemed to linger in the air, a haunting reminder that he was still trapped in a cycle of grief that he could never escape…

‧───────────────

The day had finally drawn to a close, and the muted hum of office chatter began to fade as the fluorescent lights overhead flickered in their final moments. James gathered his belongings, the familiar weight of his briefcase resting heavily in his hand. The corporate world had wrapped around him like a well-worn coat, the same job he had held before, one that felt both calming and predictable. 

It paid well enough to keep the bills at bay and provided a stable life for him and Laura, allowing him to indulge her little whims—the occasional treat, a new book or doll, or even a day out at the beach. 

As he waved goodbye to his coworkers, offering polite smiles and half-hearted chuckles, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of isolation. Their lives seemed so vibrant, filled with laughter and casual conversations about weekend plans, while he felt like an outsider peering in. Part of him wished he could simply slip away unnoticed, disappearing into the anonymity of the evening. But the thought of the upcoming parent-teacher meeting loomed over him like a dark cloud, the spectre of his insecurities rising to the surface. 

What if Laura’s teacher had concerns about her progress? What if she brought up issues he was completely unaware of? The prospect of engaging in a discussion that could highlight his shortcomings as a parent filled him with an unfamiliar anxiety. He recalled how he had struggled to help her with her homework due to his absent mind, the frustration evident in both their faces as they would argue over James’ implications. Laura would always end up saying that she wished she had a better family…

As he walked through the now empty parking lot, James’s mind drifted to the scenario of the meeting. Maybe it was a bit late, and he secretly hoped Laura’s teacher wouldn’t want to linger past the working usual hour to talk with him. He envisioned himself slipping away, feigning an urgent call or an unforeseen obligation, but guilt gnawed at him, tugging at his conscience. 

He couldn’t let Laura down; she had come to rely on him, and he owed it to her to at least try.

“Just get through it,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as if to clear the impending doubts swirling in his mind. The crisp October air washed over him like a cleansing wave, invigorating him for just a moment. Inhaling deeply, he felt the coolness slice through the tension that had built up in his chest throughout the day, if only temporarily.

Sliding into the driver’s seat of his ageing car, he turned the key in the ignition, the familiar rumble reassuring him, if only slightly. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard; he still had a little time before he needed to pick Laura up from school. As he drove toward the school, the streets blurred by in a rush of colors, and he allowed himself to mentally prepare for the meeting. 

Maybe he could muster enough courage by the time he arrived, but deep down, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that this meeting would push him closer to confronting the ghosts of his past—something he had been desperately trying to avoid.

Thoughts of Mary flitted through his mind, uninvited yet persistent. What would she think of him now? Would she be proud of how he was trying to raise Laura, or would she shake her head in disappointment? These questions haunted him as he navigated the familiar streets. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions roiling within him. 

The school building came into view, and he parked in a spot near the entrance. As he sat there for a moment, staring at the looming structure that housed his daughter’s daily adventures. With a deep breath, he pushed open the car door, stepping out into the cool evening air. 

As he approached the entrance, he reminded himself that this was part of the job of being a parent—a role he was still desperately trying to fully embrace. After all, it was true she deserved more than a father lost in his own grief.

As he approached the school gate, he spotted her standing there, the last child waiting to be picked up. His heart sank at the sight; he had hoped to arrive earlier, to be there for her when the final bell rang. A wave of guilt washed over him, but when Laura turned and her face lit up with a smile, that guilt was momentarily pushed aside.

At least she wasn’t angry. 

“James!” she called out, her voice bright and cheerful, as she stretched out her hand toward him. He could see a small backpack slung over her shoulder, and his heart swelled at how she looked—so much like a little girl embracing the world, unbothered by the worries that often plagued him.

“Hey,” he replied, kneeling slightly to take her small hand in his. 

As he thanked the school attendant, a friendly woman with kind eyes who had watched over Laura, he glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her teacher. He didn’t see anyone lingering by the entrance, and a relieved sigh escaped him. Perhaps she had decided to leave, not waiting for him to discuss whatever concerns she may have had about Laura. That was one less thing for him to handle, and he felt a slight weight lift off his shoulders.

“Let’s go home, shall we?” he suggested, his tone light as he turned to lead Laura away. The sight of her eager nod and bright smile made his heart feel lighter, even if just for a moment. He began to walk toward the car, feeling a sense of normalcy return to him—until a soft voice called out behind him.

“Mr. Sunderland!” 

Here’s an expansion on James' perception of you:

James turned, the sound of your voice pulling him back from his thoughts. You were striding toward him, your expression a mix of determination and urgency, the late afternoon light catching in your soft hair. 

There was something striking about your presence that always made his heart race, even amidst the rising anxiety he felt at these interactions. It was as if you carried a warmth with you, an energy that seemed to radiate in the space around you, igniting a flicker of something long dormant within him.

“I was just about to leave,” you said, a hint of breathlessness in your tone as you approached. “I wanted to talk to you before you went. Is this a good time?” You looked unsure.

James glanced at Laura, who was watching the exchange with curious eyes. He felt the familiar knot of anxiety twist in his stomach but nodded, trying to mask his apprehension with a calm demeanour. “Sure, I have a moment.”

“Laura’s been doing really well, by the way,” you continued, your voice lightening as you spoke about his daughter. “She’s incredibly bright and has made some good friends this semester. I’m really proud of her progress.”

James felt a flicker of warmth at your praise. He was grateful to see Laura thriving, especially after the rough patches they had navigated together. “Thank you. I know she’s been working hard,” he replied, glancing down at her, who was beaming at your words.

“But…” you paused, your tone shifting slightly. “There are some areas where she might need a bit more support. I think if we work together, we can help her really shine.”

James felt a wave of gratitude and unease wash over him. While he wanted to support Laura, the idea of deeper involvement with her teaching felt daunting. “What do you suggest?”

Your eyes met his, and he felt a strange mix of comfort and vulnerability in that gaze. You began outlining a few ideas, your passion for teaching evident in your animated gestures. He found himself hanging on your words, drawn in by the way you spoke.

As you began to speak about Laura’s progress, he couldn't help but take in the little details—the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about the kids, the way your hands moved animatedly as you explained your thoughts, and the curve of your soft pink lips. It struck him how youthful and beautiful you looked, filled with a vibrancy that he found both comforting and terrifying. 

He had known you for years since Laura started school, but he had always kept his distance, avoiding lingering too long in your presence. Every encounter felt like a double-edged sword; he wanted to connect, to know you better, but the fear of what that meant held him back. Your passion for teaching shone through, and it was evident that you genuinely cared for each child, especially his daughter. 

Yet, for James, that made you all the more dangerous.  It was a kind of warmth that he couldn’t dare to approach or touch, as if it would burn his skin. Your laughter and bright smiles were like sunlight piercing through the clouds, illuminating the shadows that loomed over his heart. 

But it also reminded him of how far removed he was from that happiness. 

The innocence and light you carried felt worlds away from the darkness he had endured. It made him question if he was even deserving of your kindness, let alone your attention—even if it was strictly professional. You had a purity about you that felt both inviting and forbidding. It was the kind of innocence that reminded him of everything he had hoped for once—everything he felt unworthy of now. How could someone like you, who radiated joy and hope, ever understand the darkness that clung to him? The guilt and despair that wrapped around his heart like a vice? 

Yet, as you continued, he realised that part of him didn’t want this moment to end. Just a short while ago, he had dreaded this conversation, but now he found himself wishing to listen to your soft voice all night long.

As you concluded your thoughts about Laura, your smile remained bright, and for a moment, James caught himself wishing he could linger just a bit longer in your presence, absorbing the warmth you exuded. But the instinct to retreat kicked in, a familiar defence mechanism rising to shield him from the vulnerability he felt around you. 

“Thanks for the feedback,” he said, forcing a smile as he tried to mask the storm of emotions brewing inside him. “I appreciate you taking the time.”

You smiled back, but there was a flicker of something in your eyes—curiosity, concern? 

He couldn’t quite decipher it. 

As you stood there, a moment of silence stretched between you, and James noticed a flicker of hesitation in your eyes. You looked shy, as if you were unsure whether you were crossing a line by speaking up. 

“Mr. Sunderland,” you began, your voice soft, “are you okay? I’ve noticed you’ve looked... a bit tired lately.” 

The question caught him off guard, and for a fleeting moment, he found himself wondering if it was painfully oblivious or truly observant of the details that everyone else seemed to overlook. But quickly, he concluded that he must have been projecting his exhaustion more than he realised, and he must definitely look tired. 

The question wasn’t intimate.

He forced a smile, trying to shake off the weight of your concern. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied too quickly, dismissing your worry as he nodded almost vigorously. “Just, you know, work and everything.” 

For a heartbeat, you searched his face, perhaps hoping to see something more, a glimpse of the truth that lay beneath his carefully crafted exterior. But after a moment of hesitation, you seemed to accept his response. You nodded, though there was still a hint of worry shadowing your features. 

“If you or Laura need anything, please let me know,” you insisted gently. “I’d be more than happy to help.” 

The kindness in your offer made his chest tighten, his heart pounding with a mix of gratitude and desire. He appreciated it, truly, but it also fueled the raging fire of lust that had consumed him. Here you were, simply trying to be helpful, and yet he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to have you all to himself, to explore every inch of your body and lose himself in your embrace.

His mind raced with vivid, graphic images of you—unbuttoning your shirt, revealing your tantalising curves; running his hands over your smooth skin; kissing and licking your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat. He could almost taste the sweet moan that would escape your parted lips, the moan of a woman ready to surrender to his sinful, wanton needs. The very idea of it made his breath catch in his throat and his cock twitch in his pants.

He felt like a beast, a predator stalking its prey, as he watched you. Every move you made was a tease, every word you spoke a seductive whisper that echoed in his mind and stoked the flames of his desire. You were a forbidden, irresistible delight that he craved with every fibre of his being.

“Thank you,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper and his voice painfully strained. “That means a lot.” He managed to nod, hoping to convey his gratitude without revealing the turmoil churning inside him.

James' lips curled into a polite smile, but his dark thoughts raged like wildfire beneath the surface. He tried to ignore the forced gentleness of his own tone, reminding himself that he was only being polite. Yet, every word he uttered was weighed down by heavy lust for you, and the knowledge that he should never let these desires surface again.

As you stood there, a mixture of warmth and uncertainty radiating from your presence, he felt a pang of regret. You were offering him a lifeline, yet he felt as though he was dragging you into a murky depth he didn’t know how to escape. The moment hung between you, a fragile thread of connection that he wanted to reach for, yet feared would only end in disappointment. In your eyes, he saw kindness, concern, and a spark of something he dared not acknowledge. But with every passing second, he also felt the walls he had built around himself begin to tremble, as if you might be the catalyst for change he had been both longing for and dreading.

“I should go,” you said, breaking the silence, and James felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment wash over him.

“Right,” he replied, forcing his mind to focus on the present. “Thank you Miss, and have a good night.”

You offered him one last warm smile before turning to leave, and he watched you go, feeling the weight of what had happened. The kindness you had shown him stirred something deep within—a longing he couldn’t quite satisfy.

[verinarin]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞

18+| smut | service top! James; oral sex fem! receiving; grinding; James cumming on his pants; sweetest dirty talk but also patethic(?) I like my man old needy and pathetic.

You’ve always thought that a man who derived pleasure from their lover’s pleasure was a myth. Men in general are selfish entities, they’re takers, not givers.

So for a man moaning and whimpering as he delves his tongue deep into your velvety walls, now that’s a new one.

His name was James. You met him at a bar. The poor guy was a bit out of place. His face bore deep, pronounced eyebags.

His lips were chapped, with the skin close to peeling off; somehow, it made you want to kiss it until it was properly moisturized.

He seemed like he needed company–well one thing led to the other and now you have his calloused hands squeezing your thighs.

Pushing the supple flesh flushed against your chest as he feasts upon you like a deranged starved man.

“Tell me you love it, honey,” he muttered against your slick-covered entrance, the tip of his nose grinding against your clit as he took a sharp exhale.

Fuck, he loves the erotic scent of your sopping wet cunt, wet by either your slick or his saliva; he can’t tell.

“James, you’re doing so well, make me feel so fucking good,” you whispered, fingers tugging on his blonde locks.

He moaned at your praise, his hips grinding against the mattresses for some sort of release.

This guy lapped your juices like it was the sweetest nectar, he kept on muttering how he needed this.

“Honey, can you hold your thighs for me, please?” he whined, looking up towards you with puppy eyes, chin glistened with your juices.

He looks pathetic, but how can you deny him?

Without a word you do what he asked, not knowing what it’ll bring you.

Not a moment wasted before he pressed down your lower stomach with one hand and spread your pussy lips with the other.

He could see your poor pussy clenching over nothing, he has to change that now huh?

“So pretty, honey,” he mumbled, parting his lips and sticking his tongue out to let a fat glob of saliva coat that cute clit of yours before it slid down to your needy hole.

His thumb dragged the little hood over your clit, lubricating it with his saliva, “Cutest little clit,” he mused, looking up towards your teary eyes.

Cute girls always have the cutest clit and the tightest pussy’ he thought to himself.

“J-james….” you whined, missing the feeling of his tongue worshiping your pussy, the way his stubble burns against your skin deliciously.

“Tell me what you need, honey,” he perked up, relishing how sweet his name sounded on your lips.

“Fingers or tongue, which one do you want, hun?” he continued, littering kisses across your stomach.

“Which one you prefer?” you asked, it was a dumb question.

But you needed to know why does this guy took his sweet time to lap you with his tongue other than just quickly rip a climax out of you and stuck his cock inside.

“My tongue so that I could taste your sweet juices, but if it’s not enough for you I could always add my fingers in,” he looked up towards you, like a cute puppy waiting for his owner’s command.

“I just want to make you feel good, honey” he blew cool air over your clit, kissing the cute pearl as he nuzzled to your soft skin.

He needed you to feel good, so he could feel good about himself.

“Use whichever you want, James. I just need you….” you whined, your hole clenching on nothing.

The feeling of being needed, it turned him on so fucking much. “Okay, honey. Just relax I’ll do the rest,”

With that he inched back down, spreading your pussy before sliding his tongue inside.

The tip of his thumb curved up, massaging your spongy walls as he pressed down on your stomach, your toes curled at the pleasure he invoked.

His nose nestled on your clit, with his fingers occupied with keeping your pussy spread for him, he used his nose to flick your slippery clit.

He needed you to come on his tongue, coating his taste receptors with the taste of you.

The air that he breathed through his nose smells like your sex; raw and erotic.

He could tell that the smell of your pussy would linger in his nostril for weeks to come, he doesn’t mind it.

He whimpered as he bucked his hips, his boxers felt sticky from the precum smeared all over as he grind on the mattress.

Hearing his needy whimper spur you on too much, you involuntary clenched on his tongue, your back arched as you grind your pussy against his face.

He took this as a sign, his hand pulled your leg to rest on his shoulder before he squeezed your rear.

Holding the soft flesh in place, his grip was firm yet gentle as he lifted you to his mouth, letting his tongue delve deeper inside.

“James, oh my fucking god–” you threw your head back, screaming in pleasure.

He moaned, the noise muffled by your pussy sending vibrations to your core.

His hand slid across your spine, supporting your back as your body shook from the pleasure of the flesh.

He kneeled on the bed with his thighs spread wide open as he squeezed your ass, his other hand holding your back, slowly letting you down on the bed.

His hand found its way to yours, he intertwined his fingers with yours, offering support to his relentless caress.

He finally pulled his head back to catch a moment’s breath, his eyes ridden with lust with a sense of accomplishment.

Gazing upon your drenched pussy, dripping with the combined liquid of your juices and his saliva.

“Pretty,” he licked his slick coated lips, two of his fingers dragging across your slit.

“So pretty,” he slurped the remaining juices, the sound of his tongue sucking your juices was downright obscene, contrasting his sickeningly gentle gaze on your face.

He used his fingers to examine your slit, spreading it open to see your wet gummy walls.

His cock twitched at the sight, so cute. He slid a digit in, curving it inside before pulling your wall slightly open to see your sticky cavern.

Pretty and pink, so cute.

He took a shaky breath in, inhaling oxygen like there was no tomorrow before he leaned back in, his finger still pulling your wall open for his tongue to slither right in.

“James….you’re so fuckk–” you mewled.

His thumb rubbed your clit in a slow circular motion, coaxing you to drench his tongue again.

He knew he made you climax at least once at this point, but not the mind-shattering type of climax that he intended to do from the beginning.

Once your sweet voice greeted him, he knew then that he needed your voice to call his name in ecstasy.

He kept on bucking his hips to the mattress as he laid flat on his stomach, his tongue stroking your walls, silently begging for you to squirt all over his face.

Fuck, he needed that.

“James I’m close soo closee,” he quickly pulled away kissing your stomach, rubbing the smooth skin with his thumb as he asked, “Fingers or tongue?”

“F-fingers…” you couldn't properly vocalise how much you loved how his finger prodded your insides earlier, you could only gasp and moan at his ministrations.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll suck on that cute clit for you okay…then I’ll fingerfuck your tight pussy,” he cooed.

He latched his lips on your clit as he slide two of his thick digits in. “F-fuckkk Jamess,”

He could feel his cock burning against the rough fabric of his boxers, the pain edged him on to chase not his high but yours.

The mere thought of your cumming on his tongue, drenching him in your sweet release made his cock twitch.

He thrusted his fingers in and out of your sopping pussy, the squelching sound of your pussy riled him.

He needed to hear more of those erotic sounds mingling with your moans, he rubbed your g-spot. You squirmed at the sudden onslaught, how can he find it in such a short time is beyond your comprehension.

“Cum f’me please….need you to cum, honey,” he whined, alternating between sucking and licking your cute clit.

He needed you to cum, to be consumed by the pleasure he gave you. “Jamess..you’re gonna make me cummm,”

“Mhmm cum for me, honey. That’s it,” he cooed, his fingers vibrating up and down to mimic one of your favourite sex toys. Fuck, how did he do that…..

He could feel your walls clenching tighter around his fingers; your hand tugged on his soft locks, a telltale sign of your climax.

He quickly pulled his fingers out, replacing them with his needy tongue instead, the tip sucking in your sweet nectar as you bloom against his tongue.

Squirting all over his face, you swore you could hear him chuckling as he lapped all of it clean. From your mound to your folds, he sucked every crevice dry.

It took you tugging his hair and pulling off your pussy for him to stop, he looks so fucking messy.

Fucking hell, you need to ride on his cock, right now. “You’re next?” you panted.

You looked down at him licking your juices clean off his lips, his chin glistening with your slippery slick.

“Honey, I umm–already did,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Too embarrassed to confess that he creamed his pants off earlier as he licked your pussy juices clean off your skin.

“Hmm?” you crawled towards him, he quickly sat up to escape, but it was too late.

You found your way to his thighs, you could see the damp spot on his jeans. “O-ohh fuck don’t nuzzle there,” he whined, as you nuzzled your face close to his crotch.

“I’ll wait,” you hummed, resting your head on his thigh.

“Sweetie, wait for what?” he sighed, stroking your hair gently, admiring how beautifully blissed out you look.

“You could get it hard again right?” you hummed as you cupped his semi-hard cock, still confined by his jeans.

”F-fuckk,” he gasped, the night is still young after all.

“Yeah, just give this old man some time to breathe,”

[jellyfishworld]

So can we all agree James Sunderland in the remake is fine… and when are the fanfics coming??

[flowergirl-aerith]

How it feels looking around in the James Sunderland x reader tag

[drunkenlionwrites]

No bc Jam looks like such a puppy but i know he got that dawg in him. years of suppression did crazy things to his brain and libido i fear

Warnings: smut, g/n reader, sexual frustration, mentions of public sex, a bit of unhealthy sexual behaviors

Oh sure he is, deep inside! The only thing is, James is used to repress his sexual desires for so long, that now it feels alien to him to know that he can openly express himself. He will actually be a dispassionate sad puppy in the beginning until he gets a better grasp of himself and feels safe to just fuck nasty again 🤭

He's afraid to scare you off with what he actually wants to do to you and how intense of a feelings he has inside of him. Sometimes he can't help but think that it's something dark and dirty, something that should better stay inside his head.

With time and lots of acceptance on your part, he'll begin to also accept it himself again and then yeah, I'm sure all hell breaks loose: you won't recognize the man you've been with for quite some time.

He pounces on you. Literally. If he feels his cock getting hard - he'll want to get rid of this sickly feeling and quick. And yeah, he'll fuck you hard, and quick, and desperate. You're somewhere outside? Not a problem. Semi-hidden place and public quickie is guaranteed.

Yes, he doesn't have such good stamina as he had in his twenties, but two rounds and a third one in a morning is a daily occurence now.

Don't let me get started on his kinks tho? All that is related to your long and pretty legs? He'll cover them in kisses before devouring you. Punishment kink probably? He'll ask you to slap him on the cheek during sex one day and from that point it may escalate at some points. Tho he's also not very good at regulating it as well. I believe James is not the type to peruse the early days internet inquiring what BDSM is and how to safely practice it.

[decay-1]

GIGGLES i fear i've fallen under the james sunderland curse how did this happen... sighs wistfully. you ever see a guy and just want to pet and brush back some of his hair out of his eyes? i think he might just melt if his s/o did that without much warning. the casual physical affection... <3

Hi its like 3am but time is a construct so here u go babe

Words: 867

—————————————

—————————————

James’ lips moved as he spoke—probably about work, or maybe something to do with your shared house—but you wouldn’t know. You’d been too focused on admiring his handsome features, the ones you’d never get tired of, to really hear a word he was saying. His words were coming in one ear and going straight out the other, drowned out by the quiet joy of just… looking at him.

You’d always found it amusing how much he talked with his hands. Each gesture made a smile tug at your lips, just one more thing about him you adored. How he hadn’t noticed you weren’t paying attention by now was a mystery, but you weren’t complaining. It just gave you more time to daydream about him, something you still loved doing even after all these years together. Every day with him brought a new spark of excitement, no matter how long you’d been by his side.

Your gaze drifted over his nose, and you found yourself remembering how you’d trace its outline at night, lulling him to sleep with gentle fingers. Then, your eyes dropped to his lips—soft, but just a bit flaky from the cold. They had a taste you were sure you’d never find in anyone else. You let your gaze trace the line of his jaw, the one you’d grab out of nowhere sometimes just to pull him in for a short, sweet kiss, leaving him flustered and stammering as he was caught off guard every time.

But then, your attention fell on his eyes.

Oh, his eyes. You’d never get over them.

That pale shade of blue could send your heart racing with a single look, a blue so deep it reminded you of the ocean, the ones you fell in love with all those years ago. Every time his eyes locked with yours, it brought you back to the day you met, and to the moment you knew you were in love. You could feel electricity shoot through your veins, your heart beating faster, skipping like it might just burst from all the affection.

Without realizing it, you grinned with a love-sick expression, your eyes half-lidded as you rested your chin on your hand. You nodded absently at whatever James was saying, even though you hadn’t heard a word in the last few minutes.

Then, your gaze wandered to the blond streaks in his hair, soft strands that always seemed to fall into his face and cover those beautiful eyes you adored so much. It was then that James finally seemed to realize you weren’t paying attention. He raised an eyebrow and pressed his lips together, giving you a look of mock-disappointment. His mouth moved again, probably calling you out for zoning out.

But you still didn’t hear him.

Instead, you frowned a little and tilted your head, watching as more of those golden strands fell into his face. Without thinking, you reached up toward him. James followed the movement of your hand with his eyes, looking a little confused but not objecting. He never did.

Gently, you brushed the soft strands out of his eyes, smiling to yourself. But even as you did, you didn’t move your hand right away. You just stayed there for a moment, gazing into his eyes now that nothing was in the way, taking in his face with a small, contented smile.

“There,” you breathed, barely above a whisper. Your nose almost touched his as your hand dropped back to your lap.

James’ eyes widened slightly, his lips parting as the blush started to creep up his neck. He blinked a few times, trying to process what just happened. The warmth of your touch lingered on his forehead, sending little shocks of electricity through him, and before he knew it, his entire face was burning. It was such a simple gesture, but from you? It was enough to completely short-circuit his brain.

He stared at you, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind scrambling to come up with something to say. “W-What… what was that for?” he stammered after a few failed attempts, his voice a little shaky.

But you didn’t answer, still lost in the warmth of the moment.

Flustered, he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, but all it did was make more hair fall into his face. You burst into laughter, your protest coming out between giggles, “Hey!”

He snorted at your reaction, shaking his head with a soft chuckle of his own. He couldn’t help it—he loved that laugh of yours. He looked back at you, and for a moment, you both just stared at each other, grinning like fools, your eyes filled with the kind of love that never really fades. The kind that only grows stronger.

Sure, James would probably ruin the moment by saying something awkwardly cheesy in the next few seconds—that was just part of who he was—but that was another thing you loved about him. For now, you were happy to sit in the quiet comfort of his presence, letting the warmth of the moment wash over you both.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

It is you || James Sunderland ||

A/n: i love him

Warnings: mention of death, abuse, murder.Spoilers for the game even though the plot been out for years

Prompt used:

"when i’m with you i feel like myself. i feel like every side of me is present and accepted. and i feel good about it— i feel good about who i am when i’m with you"

James first met you in Silent Hill, huddled in some corner of some room. You first told him that you came here to visit your parents.

That was a lie of course because who willingly admits to murder.

Though the more time you both spent in Silent Hill, the closer you two became.

James told you about his wife, about what he did and in return you confessed to why you were here.

"I couldn't take it" your voice wavered. "The abuse, of everyone thinking we were perfect when we're not....I got tired of hiding my bruises....of everything." Your voice wavered.

You could almost see the blood on your hand. "He was so confused when I brought him here. We saw some creature, it killed him, just rammed its massive sword into him and I laughed....I should have been scared...I should have ran but I just laughed....I thought I was next but it just dragged the mangled corpse away. It saved me...am I crazy...for being grateful for it saving me?" Fat tears ran down your cheeks as you turned to look at James.

Gaze softening, James brushed your tears away giving you a weak smile. "I think it makes you the most sane person here."

And after that, James felt like he's known you his whole life. It was odd, to have this connection with someone he met...well he really didn't know how long he was stuck in this town.

He owed you a lot, you helped him grow, helped him recover his guilt, from everything that he suffered from. His gaze flicking to Laura as she skipped ahead of you borh, steps lighter as you three made your way out of Silent Hill. His hand softly holding yours.

Your name spilled from his lips as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, a smile on your own face as you looked at him. "Hmm?"

James parted his names then sighed as his shoulders dropping. "I have something I wanted to say.When i’m with you i feel like myself. i feel like every side of me is present and accepted. and i feel good about it— i feel good about who i am when i’m with you"

Cheeks growing warm, you rested against his arm, you finally felt free.

"I feel the same way James...thank you."

[crimsonbubble]

James Sunderland... I KNOW hes a sad wet puppy but like.. I need that blonde man to gently dom me and praise me and encourage me hhhhhhh

don't do this to me rn 😩😩 the softest soft dom to ever soft dom

i just know he says things like "there we go." "so good for me." "just like that, sweetheart." "feeling good, baby?" but even when you try to brat him at the hopes of getting him to be a little rougher, the only thing he does is quirk a brow with a soft tilt of his head and it has you crumbling back down to him. he def laughs and kisses your cheek when you pout and deflate into his arms because he brought you back to him again. just like he always does <3

when he overstims you and you start whining that it's too much and you cant come again, he goes "yes, you can, baby." "please baby, do it for me" and he says it all whiny and begging as he continues to make you feel good. KISSES. SO MANY KISSES. he cant and wont stop kissing you and your pretty body while he makes you come over and over again.

taking all of his cock inside you for the first time and he's holding your hips so gently as he coos at you with stuff like "easy, honey, let me do it." "taking all of me so well, baby." and his voice is so fucking nice to listen to; all reassuring, loving, and trusting. when you ride him for the first time, his hands stay on your thighs as he lets you take him at your pace. mainly because he loves watching how your face scrunches in pleasure as his cock hits your sweet spots and fills your pretty hole. "gonna take all of me? yeah?"

im gonna stop here before i turn this into a 12 page essay

[bl0odyh3art]

JUST LIKE HER.

warnings: incest (father/daughter), James being disgusting, james comparing you and Mary 😭, non-con to dub-con, and getting turned on by yelling.

this is dead dove/dark content. if are uncomfortable with this kind of content or don't like it, then do not interact.

a/n : this lowkey sucks to me

Being with your dad wasn't so bad. He supports you, cares for you, lets you drive his car sometimes, and decided it was okay for you to live with him still. Unless you find a nice spot. But there's one thing.

He's really, really, really, really, a serious loser. I mean come on…he's kinda pathetic. Sad to say it but it's true, your dad isn't always the best of the best. He can be lazy and dumb. Sometimes really touchy with you as well….but that's for another time. Whenever he sees you, cleaning, cooking, or whatever that reminds him of Mary in the slightest.

He'd go insane and go on long stories about her, of course he never told you what really happened…you'd hate him with all your guts and heart. He even feels pathetic for mistaking you for her once.

“Dad, it's been years. I thought you'd let go of it now.” You sighed as you grabbed the tiny towel to dry off a dish.

“I know, sweetie but it's just-....you look like her sometimes and that makes me freak out..” He looked away from you, what kind of father does that? Gets excited over almost seeing his dead wife but in reality it's just his daughter.

Honestly, when did you get so big? When you were a kid, you looked a lot more like him. Exactly like your dad, people would mistake you for a boy sometimes.

He was staring at you, long and good…just looking. ‘Would she feel just like Mary?’ He let his thoughts take over. What the fuck.

He cringed internally and put his head in his hands. He can't. He knows he shouldn't…but fuck. He saw all the bits of Mary…Mary…and himself. Mostly his genes but you were a perfect mix. The tits and ass…god he just wanted to grab them and compare them but that'd already make him more of a loser than he is.

Being miserable and wanting to fuck his own daughter? Really trying to make himself look bad at this point. But what could be the harm? Only once. He hid Mary's death for a bit…He can hide this too.

“What are you doing?” Scoffing at him as he puts his hands on your hips, Trying to swat them away.

“You look like her, y’know..?” He said in the softest and sad voice he had.

Pathetic ass loser trying to seduce his daughter. Barf.

“Okay…and?...” You tried to turn your head to look at him. He stared at you with a certain look you've seen before. The look you saw customers give you at work. “Let's fuck” look. He tried slipping his cold hands underneath your sweater, making you flinch and push him away.

“Hey! What the hell is wrong with you?” Your brows furrow and look disgusted with him. You should be disgusted because he deserves it.

“Honey, I'm so sorry…I don't know what came over me….” He sighed. He knew exactly what came over him but sadly it didn't work.

So plan B. Fuck her while she's sleeping. Not his proudest moments but hey, he's had worse moments. So during the night, while you're all tucked in and fast asleep. He comes in like the boogeyman at night and boom.

He can't wait another minute, feeling up your tits and kissing you…Okay, so it doesn't really taste like her but it's sweeter and softer.

After minutes of kissing you and feeling up your tits, you get up and slap him quickly “God, what the fuck is wrong with you? I can't even sleep anymore? Fuck…you're so gross, I can't believe mom delt with you.” You basically yelled at him and wow, that's what got him hard.

Whiskey Dick the whole time he was touching you but the yelling is what got him turned on. Fucking freak.

You couldn't do much, he's stronger and older, you had to give in and just let it happen. He has a big dick though…a real nice pale, veiny, pink tip dick. Pushing it deeper and deeper into you as he let go of strained groans.

“I'm sorry…. I'm- fuck I'm sorry baby but…I couldn't stop…” He breathed out into your neck, he got red pretty easily. his pretty neck is all red and his dick of course just absolutely throbbing against your soft walls. Making you cry out in pleasure and pain.

“Dad!...Oh God…ahah…please rub my clit…” you whined to him and he instantly listened. It's so cute. the perfect pussy, chubby, tight, and wet. After what seemed like hours, he finally came all in you. His jaw clenching, eyes closed, and hands stuck to your hips while he tried so hard to not moan ‘Mary’. No condom or anything. He wasn't capable of waiting for something like that. He felt guilty. Looking at your tired and exhausted expression.

“Baby…My baby…I'm so sorry for that..” He sighed out, leaning his head down to your shoulder and letting it rest there as you just patted his back. “S’okay, dad…” you slurred out, cock drunk.

At least he got some pussy finally.

[sundrlands]

‘significance’ j. sunderland x reader

minors dni

cw: light face slapping, light scent kink, sub/top j. sunderland x dom/bottom reader, oral, breath play if you squint, breeding kink, light spit play, dry humping. no depictions of specific characterizations in regards to the reader’s looks. reader has she/her pronouns.

summary: what happens when two deprived people meet by accident? a server and that odd man who’d always come to drink coffee every morning at 6am. from awkward conversation to a dinner that turned into rough, needy indulgence. it was easy, a deprived little thing like him… it was just too significant.

a/n: this is years after the events of sh— no mentioning of the events either. forgive me if this is all over the place… it’s definitely a long one. i kind of went wild while writing this one. there’s more smut than there is plot but nonetheless… i hope you enjoy my very first james sunderland fic.

there he goes again… that odd man… in the same spot he’d always sit in. the farthest table by the window with no one to accompany him besides himself.

james… that was his name. james sunderland.

he was kind enough to tell you this after the tenth time he’d come in. you didn’t have to ask or even tell him your own name… mostly because you didn’t know how to approach that level of conversation. you were just a server— giving the customers phony smiles, a ‘hi, how can i help you today?’ and the fakest kind of enthusiasm when any other would try to offer a joke out of curtesy.

yet something about him… his somber eyes— with light wash of rosy pink coloring the bags underneath them— that looked as if he was deep in thought… as if he were to be troubled by something… or someone from his past… the short stubble that grazed over his chin and upper lip, and his body language that seemed as if he never wanted to be bothered or probably never slept. his gaze always wandered around the diner, out the window or at the soft ripples within the mug he’d hold. sometimes… you found him staring at you, nervously looking away whenever your eyes connected. you never understood why though or what he could be thinking each time he looked at you, so you never asked or gave it much question.

james was just a stranger who came at the same time, almost every single day— six in the morning, as the sky still glowed its grey hues— not a minute early. not a minute late. the bell from the diner’s door ringing loud and brash with the thick of his boots stepping on every creaking, rotten floor board.

each time he’d come, you’d watch him to see if he’d do anything different. maybe he’d add in a sugar packet… two or three… or maybe he’d get a breakfast sandwich like mr.colemen always did— the trucker who you knew had a wife but still flirted with the older cook, ms.miles on tuesdays— or maybe he’d bring in someone he knew to occupy his time… he didn’t. it was the same each time. he’d arrive, ask for seating and sit— not wanting anything else but his coffee— black. no sugar. no cream, just like he liked it he said. he’d watch the steam from his cup vanish until it ran cold then take his sips that felt like a lifetime in between each one.

you couldn’t lie… you were fairly intrigued by him… it wasn’t as if you hadn’t had regulars come in just as much he does, if not more, but something about him seemed different… the expression he always wore… he always seemed so lost in thought yet… so attentive in his surroundings. something in you wanted to know who he was.

each time you gave him a cup of his favorite black coffee, you couldn’t help yourself but try to formulate conversation after he gave out his name… but he was always just so fucking vague… each sentence he spoke was watered down— that trickled slow like shallow water… simplistic and dry, running in a soothing hum.

it was pretty. the way he spoke.

you told him that too. a gentle, ‘you have a nice voice’ after he sung a sweet ‘thank you’ after setting the coffee down in front of his hands. he was awkward about it, like he hadn’t received a compliment like this one or a compliment at all. no words given other than that, having the conversation run flat and you walking away in regret thinking, ‘maybe that was too much’.

it only took one day when you had been off shift to see him sitting at a park bench, the one at the end of the town with his hands in his pockets, back slouched and those same somber eyes staring into the park’s pound to finally sit next to him and not feel the dynamic imbalance hit you like how it did in the diner.

“james!” your breath creating its soft clouds within the cold air as you softly spoke, vanishing as it rose.

“ah!” he hummed, “funny to see you here.” he looked at you… the blonde strands flowing against the wind, his attention fully on you instead of him quickly trying to look away. it was direct, like he stared from within your body… you didn’t expect a person like him to have such good eye contact… it almost made you nervous.

“no coffee today?” you replied, offering a smile.

“afraid not. im just on my lunch break… needed some fresh air.”

“may i ask where you work? hope that’s not improper of me to ask.” you laughed quietly, taking a real good look at him. he was almost like a statue… a rugged one. his lack of fashion sense…and his ability to hold so much expression all the while it being so bland and so cold.

he chuckled, shaking his head as he turned his head back towards the pond, “no… no it’s not ‘improper’. it’s just an office job. pretty boring id say.”

“fitting.” you replied, “not that you’re boring! just… seems like a occupation you’d have is all.”

“i wouldn’t say that you’re wrong even if you did say that.” giving yet another humming chuckle.

you stayed for the time he had to spare. the conversation going just as you thought it would… awkward but he was sweet nonetheless. though it was the way it was, his words flowed with every sentence he spoke, like the gentle stream of the pond in front of you both or the thick clouds that scattered in the grey sky. it took you just a few moments to notice how pretty that man was. he exuded such odd comfort… and warmth that made you want to keep talking to him. listen to anything he said even if it meant nothing or sounded humorously stupid.

“well.” he sighed, grunting as he stood, “id love to keep… talking, but i have to go back.”

you nodded, exchanging your goodbyes as you watched him walk down the park’s path until his body disappeared in the distance.

and so, from then on it had been easier to talk to him. finding any way to get to know more about the odd man who only drank black coffee and stared at you from time to time. it started just at your workplace, quick and steady back and forth talk then at the park, then offering a time to spend together on your off day for breakfast.

that was the first time he had something other than coffee. it was the first time you saw him smile more than once… not a faint one… a real one— seeing how his teeth jumbled at the bottom of his mouth or the harsh smile lines appear by the sides of his lips.

the more you looked, the more you conjured how pathetic of a man james really was. his life seemed so dull… just like the springs occasional showers and faded blue skies… but he was like the sweetness of june— the warmth within this man was little to none but still, he captivated you with his odd charm even if he tried or didn’t. you couldn’t help yourself but to think it was so easy to get him flustered, to have him smile whenever you showed interest in whatever he spoke about… like a lost puppy who finally got attention after being alone for so long.

a slip of a compliment flowed in almost every other sentence, seeing him stutter in his words, choking up a thank you whenever he could. it was amusing… like an addiction. sewing your way into his life was oh so significant. he considered you a ‘friend’ to put it lightly, one who obviously stared at you whenever you weren’t looking: like at the pier. you stood in front of him, hearing the crows sing and the water waves crash against the wood— he’d eye down your frame, seeing the way your clothes hugged your form… dissociating the world’s music around you both with an open mouth and twiddling fingers.

each time, you acted as if you hadn’t noticed and maybe you were just that good for him to not pick up on it whenever you failed to mention or question why he’d stare so goddamn much. it didn’t matter anyway, you liked it just as much as he liked staring at you.

he’d sit stiff, noting how erect his back would be whenever you placed your hand on his shoulder, a soft grip given as you both spoke about whatever. he’d clear his throat whenever you stood a little too close to him, rubbing the tapered part of his hair on the back of his head with a line of ‘uh’ and ‘ums’ in between each word he spoke.

god… this man was just so pathetic.

“why don’t we have dinner?” you smiled as you turned towards him, the bustling chatter amongst the passing people as you both walked down the same park you and him had your first real conversation.

“oh.” he chirped, a quiet laugh intertwined in his speech, “sure. where?”

“my house.” you answered confidently. through the few months of you being his ‘friend’, it only seemed right, so you told him. you wanted him in a place of vulnerability. to rule out every other being that’d pass by or surround you while in public. you just wanted it to be you and him. him and you. “if that’s fine by you. im not too bad of a cook.”

“your house?” his voice fell flat but it was nothing that worried you. the ring of his monotone voice was thick and with how he reacted to your small gestures, you knew he was more than willing to oblige. “you don’t mind me… coming to your house?”

you gave a little nod and he gave a gentle smirk. james didn’t know what could happen once the dinner would happen but he had no reason to disagree… or even want to. he grew accustomed to your company, more than any coworker he had that tried to gather him for night drinks after tough shifts… or even the women who were so abrupt in their interest in him… the thin pencil skirts and revealing blazers. he didn’t care.

a date was given. four days from then after his early ending shift. and so time flew. he hadn’t come to the diner at six in the morning like he did, he wasn’t even at the spots he’d sit during his breaks from work. a part of you had been worried if he tried to avoid you, wondering why you haven’t seen him since your request. he wasn’t good at texting— sending him a ‘hi’ would only result to him replying a ‘hey’ three days later. you almost didn’t buy the groceries you needed to prepare or an outfit that wasn’t too much but definitely would grasp his attention.

luckily you did.

it had been the day and it was five in the afternoon, the sun setting itself and the wind blowing more rapidly, flowing with the night’s usual atmosphere. james stood at your door with the address you gave him not too long after he agreed for the dinner you proposed. he just stared at it’s wood, his heart racing without his mind fully understanding why. he was a grown man but too afraid to see your face until this very moment. so he’d stay in the house longer than he needed to without going to the diner in the mornings. he’d stay in his cubicle on his lunch break, finishing any extra assignments he needed done for his boss.

moments spent with his feet planted on the ground before he gave three knocks at your door. he waited, only for a minute before you opened the door. you were dressed so nicely opposed to his work outfit still on and the light fragrance of the food fumigating in the air, hitting his nose.

“you’re here.” you spoke, relieved that he hadn’t stood you up. “come in.”

and so he did. small talk was given, complimenting your abode and trinkets you had scattered all about, admiring the personality your home gave opposed to his apartment that was just there… only the essentials, almost soulless. you thanked him of course, going on about little things as he listened before you finished all that needed to be done for dinner— it was pasta. simple and easy to not fuck up.

two plates placed with wine in crystal glasses and forks being spun. you connected over the flavor of the sauce and the warmth of the garlic bread that complimented the pasta. everything went smoothly, more than you thought it would’ve. easy conversation with the add in of knowing more about who james was… though he was his usual vague self.

you couldn’t pinpoint why he had been or what was truly on his mind. in certain instances, he’d drift off, his eyes wavering with a slow chew before ending his sentence with something mundane. your curiosity kept prodding with each question you gave— he didn’t show feeling of intrusion but he wrapped around certain topics leaving you needing more to be answered.

it felt like twenty one questions… moreso… him answering yours than you were with his but his composure and hospitality hadn’t changed from his kind and awkward demeanor he’d always give. it took awhile before you realized you had been digging in his chest like a crow on a rotting corpse before you covered your mouth with a soft, inaudible gasp.

“ive been blabbering…” you say, shyly laughing as you continued the last of what was left on your plate.

“no.” he responded, his voice trickling like soothing raindrops against a windowsill, “you’re just curious.”

“that i am.” your eyebrows raising as you sipped the bitter red liquid of your wine, “but you’ve had enough.”

he shook his head, wiping his mouth with a nearby napkin as he gulped, “i enjoy the conversation. i just have a lot in my past im not too fond of is all.” you noticed his eyes again… that troublesome look… the blank stare. whatever happened seemed to had never left him. james was like a puzzle piece… all scattered… some pieces missing so the full picture could never be seen or even admired.

“don’t we all…” pursing your lips as you set your glass down, “…but that’s the beauty of life, yes? it’s shitty… things come and go. regret… wrapped in solace. but that only means you can make happier memories.” trying to be positive to remove anything he had stored in thought.

you saw his shoulders relax from its usual tension, his eyes finding their way towards yours with a thick silence being transferred between you two. “yeah.” he spoke, breaking the silence momentarily before it fell back. the white noise… the gentle buzz cradled your eardrums, sitting like a stone in both of your seats.

the contact between your eyes spoke a million words… ones that haven’t been spoken out loud— it was of interest, undeniable lust. from his constant gaze from when you once were strangers… his usual order of coffee, to the moments you spent together in numerous places to now. those pretty light eyes shook as they bounced from each part of what your body showed at the table. they were quick… hungry… without any hesitancy. he dared not to look away, enjoying the visual of your being in a place with no one around, just you both.

as for you… the feeling of his eyes felt like fire caressing your skin… as if his wherever his pupils directed themselves, you could feel. it felt like fingertips gliding underneath the fabric of your clothes… just as when he ate… the way his lips latched onto the silver of his fork— the unintentional sensual gesture as he slid it from his mouth and chewed. the coat of spit that was left across it, and the delicate way he held onto the spine of the wine glass. you wanted to replace the flavor of your homemade sauce with the flower of your labia… to feel the latch of his lips against your breast or on the sides of your neck. the way he ate gave you an intense feeling of need… greed… swelling indulgence. not to mention his goddamn voice… the voice you were already so found over— the subtle cracks and dips between certain vowels… how deep it was… how gentle it felt amongst the silence.

“james..?” you questioned, tilting your head slightly, almost in a trance by the tone of your voice.

he gulped roughly, already sensing whatever you were going to say by the look you gave. “yes?”

“may i kiss you?” the words flowing softly within a sigh, holding your breath as you waited for his answer.

he just stared at you, eyes blinking like a cat in comfort as he continued to stare. moments past… which felt like hours before he nodded.

you stood from your seat, his attentiveness not failing to follow you in whichever way you went, slowly walking towards him with your hand sliding against the rough stubble on his face. he exhaled through his nose, his eyes shutting closed, his body melting into your touch as if he longed for such embrace. he hummed… the vibration flickering against the tips of your fingers before you felt the warm air of his exhale against your lips. slowly you leaned, shaky breaths with a soft press of the lips.

his lips were so soft yet stiff, a long press, occupying the other side of his face with yet another hand, pulling his face closer to yours as you deepened it. james let you lead, his rough calloused hand grazing against your wrist with a gentle grip, simultaneously pulling you closer to his embrace.

at the touch of his lips, you felt yourself get jolted with pleasure in between your legs, the softness rushing to a hungered one— his lips opening, allowing your tongue to push through and taste the sweetness of his of spit. his mouth was warm and the muscle of his tongue slid into yours as spit started to slide down his chin… quickening breaths and an even louder hum than he ever gave.

with the sharp sound of the chair scraping against the floorboards, he scooted back, you unconsciously sitting onto his lap just to feel the growing bulge against his work pants. you sat right on it, feeling it press against your clothed cunt with a groan that wrapped around your tongue and down your throat. he felt big, and the throb of it excited you, having your hips think on its own with a heavy yet slow rut.

the hands that held onto your wrist fell at your hips, the tightness of his fingers digging into you as if he’d never want you to leave from his touch. your bodies molded into one, your breasts pressing against his heaving chest with your hands now gripping the back of his neck.

at release, your forehead pressed against his… his deep gasps sounding pathetic and irregular, lips ajar, trying to savor the feeling of your lips that were once on his. the creek of the chair upon your slow grinds were loud and obnoxious but that didn’t stop you from adding on more friction, loving the feeling of his hardening cock against you.

“let me… do what i want to you… let me make you feel good.” you whispered against his lips, feeling your words being sucked from his quickening gasps.

“please.” he whined… a sound you’d never heard before from a man, let alone one of business. his willingness in the subtle acceptance of him submitting to you had your mind fill with haze. the glisten of his eyes pleaded for something… anything… like he had never been touched before. “please…”

his face leaned in the crook of your neck, his nose nudging against the warmth of your skin, sharp inhales, devouring the perfume that coated it. light peppering kisses lining up and down, all along the side of your jaw. a smile crept up on your lips… you knew just from the sight of him that he was just a pathetic little thing. and with the way he acted just from a kiss… how hard he got with you sitting on his lap, you knew that whatever you did he’d grant you a reaction that would be better than any man has ever gave you or will give you.

you gripped the back of his head, a drunken stare as his lips still purse from the abrupt release of his kiss. “wait.” you breathed, pressing your finger in the center of his lips. he was so tantalizing… his eyes drooped with anticipation, knowing that since he has you now… his self control was little to none.

at the side of you finger, he kissed it, holding onto your wrist as you placed another finger against his lips. you watched and he watched you— his mouth slowly opening and guiding his fingers against his tongue. with hallowed cheeks he began to suck, bobbing his cute head down to the knuckle. curling your fingers, you felt his tongue slither in between, spit messily sliding down your palm and arm.

“good boy..” you praised, your voice in sync with the sounds of his sucks— a deeper whine trembling against your fingers at the sudden pet name.

you grinned, cocking an eyebrow at his reaction. he liked that? you thought. seems fitting.

sliding your fingers from his mouth, you gripped his chin, a gentle press given, “watch me.” you whisper and with a pull at your top, he watched. his eyes directing themselves at your breasts with an even quicker and excited exhale exuding from his whining lips. eyebrows furrowing at the need to touch, his hands hesitantly removing from your hips and curling, waiting for the okay to be able to grope them upon your request. unclasping your bra, they drooped prettily in his face, letting whatever you took off hit the floor beside the chair.

“come on pretty boy… touch them.” you slurred, your voice seductive, teasing him, watching how his eyes never left, just opening at the sight of your bare breasts. “i know you want to.”

he sighed, one that was pent up and riddled with eagerness. “oh my god…” his voice shook. james was driven by the lustrous nature of your body. captivating by the sounds that fell from your lips and the commands you spewed— each word directed itself at his cock, feeling it twitch and tighten at his pants. the way you were entranced by his eyes as he was with yours, looking up at them with admiration, need and desire that festered throughout his body, making him burn at the touch.

doe and gentle with a sweet song flowing in the disguise of a moan he sung. the single free strands laying against his skin, complimenting with the reds that blossomed at his cheeks.

‘i want her… i need her… all of her… i want it. i want it. i want it. i want it.’ he chanted in his brain— feeling as if he was going to pass out at how hard he was breathing— his hot mouth curling at the warm bud of your breast, tongue flicking at it’s hardened tip, pulling back with the gentle graze of his teeth until a pop was heard, pressing a series of kisses around your breasts.

you were drunk off the man. that poor pathetic odd man. his body calling for more… groping your breasts with vigor, feeling the shortness of his nails digging and molding them to his liking… and the little broken noises he made, so soft and sweet, higher than his usual tone. a fleeting glint of mischief glistened in your eyes, letting out a chuckle.

“that’s it…” your voice trailed, lifting your hips, starting to bounce on his lap, granting a broken moan to feather against your nipple.

“god… fucking dammit..” he exhaled, gritting his teeth as his body sunk into the chair, his feet planted harsher on the floorboards, bucking his hips upward, feeling the weight of you created more friction, his swelling cock pulsating. “don’t stop… please.” he whined, eyes squinted as drool fell from the side of his trembling lips.

your hands running in his warm blonde strands, “that’s a good boy.” you tightened your gasp, pulling it with a yank. he blinked slowly with a coo, “you like it when i bounce on it?” you teased.

he nods. his poor hips already tiring out, them stuttering at every upwards thrust. “yes ma’am… fuck it feels… it feels so good.”

planting your hands at his chest, you felt the fast pace of his heart, running your palms up his body until your fingers wrapped around his slender neck— each digit falling into his skin, hearing his strain. “poor baby… you wanna feel more don’t you?” you grunted, his head tilted back with your face hovering his. with a slight cock of your hand, it collided with the softness of his cheek, a loud yelping moan bouncing along the dining room walls.

“fu… fuck…” he stuttered, his lips almost at pout.

no woman had ever treated him this way, so rough and teasing and you hadn’t even fucked him yet. his nerves was heightened as his cheek burned with the faint remnants of your palm. never did he think he’d enjoy something like this, in fact… he was left speechless. the sight of his eyes looking more pleasing than they already looked. they never looked away from you, wanting to get every expression you gave… watching your lips as they continued to taunt him, needing to see the way your breasts bounced as you continued to rut against his lap above his pants.

“oh?” you chirped, noticing the deepening submission in his glare. “you liked that didn’t you?” your hips now stopping in its place.

weakly, he laughed, “i do.” his voice still so sultry and deep.

leaning closer to his face, your lips feathered his, exchanging breaths with shared smiles, “go on your knees and take it out for me.” your other hand sliding down slow until it cupped his bulge. removing yourself from his lap, now standing.

he lifted himself off the chair, taking off his bottoms and boxers. there he sat, like an obedient little thing, on his knees— his thick dick laying and jerking at every throb as it laid so delicately against his thigh— staring up at you adoringly with gleaming eyes, as if he had been admiring a star.

it wasn’t as if you necessarily thought about what he looked like underneath his boxers, but the sight of it made your eyes sparkle— it was so thick and long, it made your mouth water.

“james…” shocked and even more turned on at how pretty his dick was. the light graze of his brown pubes looking well kept. “fuck it’s so pretty.” running your finger down its side, hearing the most pathetic moan fall from his lips— his fists balling at the sudden touch. “needy little thing you are.”

it was cute. from the little slap you gave him and the way he wanted you to have your way, it only fed into the desire to treat this boy with some excitement. that dull life he had was now changed as thoughts puddled at your brain seeing this man look so weak as you stood to look at him.

“such a pathetic… pretty man.” you cooed, tilting your head, “and look at your dick.” his eyes dropping to watch it leak and pool at the flesh of his thigh. “it’s excited for me isn’t it?”

his fingers wrapping around his shaft, needing some type of friction… it was starting to get painful with how long it hadn’t been touched bare. whenever he was turned on in the comfort of his home, he’d jerk himself off until he fell asleep. over and over again until his wrist burned and his throat dried. he had no self control and with you around, he could cum just from your voice.

“take your hand off.”

“god i just…” he whimpered.

“mmh mmh.” your head shook, as you bent down, “hands off. i tell you when you can and can’t, do you understand?” placing your finger underneath his chin to raise it, seeing gentle plea in his eyes.

“yes ma’am.”

he felt belittled, unable to control his own person. a quick shiver fell down his spine, leaning closer into your embrace… just the soft touch of your finger gave him a bolt of pleasure. knowing if he touched himself, you’d slap him in retaliation. oh how he so desperately wanted that.

you unzipped your pants, stepping out from them, alongside your panties, already dripping against the inner of your thigh. placing a palm at the top of his head, your fingers gripped tight, angling yourself in front of his face.

he gulped roughly, staring at the swelling of your clit. “lick it.” without hesitation, his face fell in between your legs, his curved nose nudging against your clit as he inhaled, lapping his tongue in between the folds of your pussy.

the scent of it drove him wild— eyes rolling back as he continued to inhale, loud enough for you to hear. he smothered himself, the muscle of his tongue thickening with his lips latching it just to get the taste of you fully.

you were taken aback at how skilled his tongue was, how his nose stimulated your clit so lovingly with each bob of his head. obnoxious sucks radiated in the air with his fingers clasping against your thighs, hard enough to hurt.

moans trickled from your throat, gasping on the thick of the air, guiding him with the hand that gripped his hair. his tongue plunged deeply into your pussy, feeling his mold his muscle inside of your fleshy walls, thrusting his head to fuck your opening.

you felt yourself already needing to cum and that has never happened before. at least not this quick. the softness of his lips sucked so roughly and his tongue flicked so fast, your knees buckled inward, unable to keep up with the pace of his mouth.

“james…” your moans heightening in volume, your chest deepening after every breath you took, “your fucking mouth…”

his hair, all tattered and messy, with his eyes reddened from it almost tearing up because of the lack of air he was given, not stopping for a second as he drank in your arousal and your moans. a tingling sensation bounced off his body, circling through each part of his limbs.

the sounds of his sucks almost overpowering your moans itself, as he felt your meaty pussy flutter in and out his mouth loving how full you made his mouth.

“i can’t stop,” he gasped against your cunt, “it’s just so good… i love it, i fucking love it. fuck… fuck…” nothing in this man’s brain could made him stop. it was like he pushed himself in between your legs like he wanted to be apart of you— keeping his strength in his neck to keep his same motion.

removing himself to breathe, he gathered spit, directing at your clit and watching it drip before catching it in his mouth, rolling his tongue along the hood of your clit before latching on with hallowing cheeks. sucking in air, your body curled forward, feeling two of his fingers slide in the opening of your pussy. they curved as they started with long strides.

that ‘odd’ man surely knew how to please a cunt. fingers picking up its pace with the loud wet sounds interweaving the moans you both sung. “yes… yes… james…” you panted, his wrist steadying, feeling you leak against and down his knuckles. your walls clamping on his fingers like a heartbeat.

“im gonna..” you announced, your body trembling more than you could even control, your legs giving out with him quickly holding you up as much as he could— his face deepening in your cunt, grunting as he felt you cum against his tongue.

“mmmhm” he hummed over and over again, feeling you shudder against his face.

falling to your knees, your face was angled with his— his mouth wet all from his nose down to his chin. the sight of you, trying to compose yourself from the orgasm you had made him feel dizzy. “feel good?” he whispered, trailing your face from where it hung low, catching your lips. you could taste yourself on his lips, running your tongue at the flesh of his bottom, sucking it in your mouth with small nips before pulling back.

forming spit in your mouth, you held onto his cock, an immediate grunt rupturing from his throat, letting the spit falling down at his tip. brushing your thumb over it, lathering your spit down to his shaft.

“tighter… please…” he mumbled, foreheads now pressing as he watched your hand wrap around his throbbing and slightly veiny shaft, rolling your wrist in circular and jagged movements. tighter you held, hearing the sound of his throaty moans.

“like this?” you breath, quickening your pace. he deserved it.

lifting the bottom of his shirt, he placed the cloth in his mouth, seeing the light spread of hair that tracked up his navel and a hollowing abdomen at every whine he let out. “yes..” he gritted through his teeth.

his precum swaying around from the vigorous speed that continued to grow. he held his breath, brows knitted, body tense at the rhythmic pattern, veins channeling on your forearm with your fingers glazing against the underside of his tip. “look at me.” you whispered, his eyes slowly traveled up your body until they locked with yours.

you spoke of lust in both your gazes, hearing the wetness of his spit coated cock at every pump, hunger radiating in you both like you desperately needed this— shameless and passionate intimacy.

your body yearned to feel him inside and the way he stared at you— the burning sensation it brought you— made it difficult for you. you wanted to feel him stretch your cunt. pushing him back by the press of your palm against your shoulder, he lay. hovering over him, wrapping your leg over his waist before angling yourself over him.

slowly you slid down on him, never feeling something as big as his. even just from the tip, you felt yourself gasp heavily as you kept lowering yourself down onto him. “fuck you’re so… big…”

james continued his whines, eyes closing tight, his body shuttered… you were so warm, your fleshy walls holding him so comfortably. bodies slowly enveloping on another as he tried to talk to your body with his hands— sliding against your thighs, up your waist and momentarily on your breasts.

“you….” he breathed, it hitching as he mindlessly held his breath, with you pushing more of him into you— textured and wet, with a heartbeat that cradled the shaft of his cock. “your pussy is sucking me in…” he groaned, his ass tensing.

all of you. the sight of it all, each movement you made. fuck, didn’t you drive him insane. at this moment, he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer.

your pussy gripped his cock, deeper it went, as if your grip was unable to let him go. each moan you let out, your pussy clammed and mimicked each word as it pulsated against him.

he couldn’t stay still, whimpering as you started to lightly bounce against him— hands planted on his chest with a slight roll of your hips. you couldn’t believe how good he felt inside of you, how full he made you. with you already cumming, it was hard to keep yourself steady, feeling yourself break down each time you lowered yourself.

pressing his hand on your back, he turned you both, now with you on your back laid against the floor, “let me pleasure you… please.” he begged, both hands placed on the sides of your head.

“fuck me like the good boy you are…”

and with that, it was as if a switch had been turned on in his brain. using one hand to grasp your thigh, “like this?” he breathed, his words as slow as his thrusts, his drowsy-like eyes running up against your face. gritting his teeth, sucking on the cool yet hot air, eyebrows knitting together. he placed his forehead against yours, your hand now sliding up to his neck— the pads of your fingers and thumb pressing down the sides of it, slowly tightening your grip. with struggling breaths, his hips continuing his rhythmic thrust yet trying to find the spot, the spot that will lead you into ecstasy.

the hand that held your thigh pressed it down further, his knees fixing itself at a better position, now his groin aiming downwards. his thrust now falling into slow, hungry pounds, his balls hitting just above your asshole. “does it feel good here…?” leaning down as he pressed wet kisses at the edge of your lips.

all you could give were responding moans, your body overstimulated by every movement he made.

each inward thrust, you could hear skin slapping against one another, your breasts mashing into each other. lips trailing down to your cheek, then to your ear, his tongue running at the side of your ear then switching to the next, groaning a series of ‘fucks’ and your name as the thrust started to increase in intensity. they were once slow, now holding more power, grunting at each inward hit. “god. your… pussy… feels… so…. soo fucking… so goood…” each word ending in a hitch.

his voice now holding a deeper, grosser tone, more animalistic as he grew pussy drunk at how you wrapped around him.

he enveloped your lips, inhaling and capturing your tongue in his mouth, sucking on its pink muscle, bobbing his head and swallowing any ounce of spit that rolled down to the back of his throat. your tongue slipped from his mouth, pressing a long kiss against his lips once more.

your mind transversed across what could possible be the gates of fucking heaven at this point. each twist and turn of his hips hitting spots your fingers could possible never do, your damp walls clamping around his girthy cock—greedily needing to paint your insides with his cum, over and over again if he could.

"it feels good, it's so good...." you trailed off, lips pressing together as you muffled a few moans of satisfaction that sounded nearly like his name—the tip of his relentless cock hitting sweet, sweet spots with each charging pound. your hands removing themselves, now dragging and scratching into his back, tugging the flesh leaving continuous marks onto his skin— causing him to wince in blissful pain.

the reverberating sounds of your name rolling off his tongue along with the desperate whines and groans of pleasure only elevated your lust "you're obsessed with my pussy," you whined, head thrown back at the intense plunges against your favored spot.

your promiscuous ways dragging him down in the mud, wanting to rut and fuck you like an untrained animal. that alluring voice of yours, cracking into a moan after you tried so desperately to tease him.

your concaving walls collapsing at his cock, walls with a flowery texture that ran against the pulsating veins of his dick. your wails rushing to his dick alongside your suction— with each inhale making its grasp tighter than before. your folds clasping at the sides of his shaft at every pull.

he place a thumb so kindly pressed at your slippery clit. circling it slow, with rougher presses at each thrust, it’s hood pushing back, feeling your wet, exposed bud nudge at the skin of his thumb. each run around, he could hear it, how your slick found it’s way all the way to your clit, making it harder for his thumb to be held in place.

his body loosened, with his hips now controlled, it’s speed rising with a longer pull and harder pound, body muggy with a thin layer of sweat, with your face buried in the inner corner of his neck.

“i don’t ever want to stop fucking you… your pussy is too good.” his voice ridged and strained.

rhythmical slaps of wet skin colliding as his balls felt a sharp sensation each time it bounced against the sweetness of your hole. your pussy’s heartbeat causing his eyes to roll, holding his breath and letting it out shakily.

“fuck me just like that james… just like that.” your eyes widening with your legs wrapping around his waist. “im close!”

“i don’t want to stop fucking you… i wish i could fuck you nonstop… i want to keep going…” his chest madly rattling against his ribcage.

shivers cascading through your arms as they gripped his hair firmly once again. your beings were joined in such an impassioned, fervid act of lustful ignited bursting flames out of your bodies. “can i..." he breathed out, voice hoarse, “can i breed you… please… please..”

the walls echoed sounds of your repeated pleasure lamentations followed by his needy words and melting into the increasing melody of skin against skin, lead you over the hill, "cum inside! do it baby…" you uttered directly into his eyes, the familiar knot forming at the pit of your abdomen, convusling cunt tightening around his sliding shaft with each thrust.

he couldn’t stop himself, feeling you cum on his cock made him bury himself further inside, hot spurts of his own cum filling you with rolling eyes and harsh gasps. glazed spit lips, bodies trembling from their high, and strained moans.

his arms snake around your body, cum oozing down his balls and thigh. “fuck….” his body not even finished with his high, slow thrust to chase after the leftover high you both breathed out.

“god james… who wouldn’t known you fucked so well…”

laid out on the floor, you both tried to catch your breaths. the contrast between every moment of you knowing one another to now, fucking each other like your life depended on it, you couldn’t help but laugh.

how significant is it to have a simple man— attractive at that— with his usual order of black coffee in your house, fucking you without a care in the world.

you knew… this wouldn’t be the last time.

[seriiousgiirl]

𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 — 𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁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 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. It's in this chapter that the smut warning applies.

❛ Part 1 ⋅ Part 5 ⋅ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ⋅ requests ❜

➜ ┊ a/n: Hello everyone, sorry for the short notice. I've had a tough few days (insomnia, mostly), and had to take a little break. But I'm back and hope to be able to post chapters 5 and 6 in the next few weeks. Thanks again for your support and patience!

Some people have also asked me to create a James bot on C.AI or Janitor.AI based on this story, I don't know if anyone would be interested?

➜ ┊: chapter 4/?.

It had been a few days since you’d ventured into James's world, and with that, a peculiar silence had settled over everything, thick and suffocating. The morning after your dinner together had dawned heavy with a sense of dread that gnawed at your stomach, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sight of James slipping past you like a shadow, his gaze averted as if your presence were a ghostly reminder of something he couldn’t bear to confront.

You tried to catch his eye, hoping for a fleeting moment of connection, something to bridge the chasm that had formed between you. Yet, he always seemed to look away at the last possible second, as if he feared the intensity of your gaze would draw forth feelings he wasn’t ready to face. Each time he turned his head, it felt like a small wound, reopening the ache of unspoken words and unresolved tension. 

It hurt more than you expected.

He’d been around, of course, often dropping Laura off at school, looking as handsome as ever but visibly worn down by an invisible burden. On one particular evening, you caught a glimpse of him through the dim light of the setting sun, his features sharp yet shadowed, eyes heavy with fatigue. The sight pained you; it was a reminder of the struggles he was wrestling with, of the grief that seemed to cling to him like a second skin.

At school, he continued to avoid you like the plague, slipping in and out during drop-offs and pick-ups. Each encounter made your heart race, a confusing mix of longing and disappointment washing over you. 

One afternoon, as he picked Laura up, the air felt charged. He glanced in your direction for a fleeting moment, and your heart soared, only for it to plummet when he quickly turned away, his expression unreadable. In that instant, you caught a glimpse of his profile—handsome, defined, yet somehow haunted by the spectres of his past. 

You longed for him to break the silence, to bridge the gap between you with words or even a gentle touch, but he remained ensconced in his own silence, treating you like a spectre haunting the corners of his life. And deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if he saw you that way, too—just a ghost lingering in the echoes of his memories.

As you recalled those fleeting moments you had shared, a heaviness settled in your chest. The warmth of his body against yours, the way his large hand had cradled your face and hips, and the soft whisper of your name escaping his lips—it all felt vivid, alive in your memory. Yet, each recollection came with the stark reminder of Mary, the wife he had lost, her absence casting long shadows over everything that might have been between you.

Guilt began to intertwine with your yearning, an insidious companion that lingered in the recesses of your mind. Had you tempted him into something he wasn’t ready for? Was it selfish of you to wish for him to lean into those feelings, to seek solace in you while his heart still mourned the love he had lost? The conflict twisted within you, a complex blend of desire and sorrow that left you feeling hollow, as if you were reaching for something just beyond your grasp.

But as the days turned into an endless cycle of longing and uncertainty, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the ache in your heart—the longing for connection, for understanding, for the warmth of his touch. With every glance, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too or if he was simply drowning in his own sorrow, oblivious to the chaotic whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

It was an afternoon like any other, with the classroom quiet and still, the hum of the school day long gone. The children had all gone home, and you were left tidying up, humming softly to yourself as you wiped down the desks, erasing the chalk from the board. The fading light of the setting sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room, and you were almost ready to head home yourself.

Until you heard his voice.

“Y/n?”

The sound stopped you in your tracks. Slowly, you turned toward the door, and there stood James, leaning slightly against the frame. The sight of him made your heart sink. His eyes, deep and brooding, seemed weighed down by something heavier than just exhaustion. His whole demeanour—shoulders slumped, head bowed slightly—was one of someone carrying far too much on his own. He looked utterly pathetic, and it wasn’t just fatigue; it was something deeper, like a man on the edge of breaking but holding himself together out of sheer necessity.

You had never seen anyone look quite so lost. He looked so lost, like a sad puppy that had wandered too far from home. His sadness was so palpable, it made the air in the room feel thick, pressing against your chest. There was no hiding it, no masking it behind small talk or a forced smile. It was right there in his gaze, that flicker of torment that hadn’t left since you’d first met him.

It hurt to see him like this—more than it should have, more than you wanted to admit. 

He was always handsome, even in his weariness, but today he looked like a ghost of himself. Before, when you didn’t know the full story, his sadness had seemed almost abstract, a mystery you couldn’t quite solve. But now, with everything you knew about his past—about Mary, Laura, and the guilt that haunted him—it was impossible to not feel his pain as if it were your own.

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. The weight of his presence had stolen your voice. You tried to think of something casual, something that wouldn’t betray how much seeing him like this affected you, but everything felt inadequate. How could you offer comfort when you felt so tangled up in your own feelings for him?

Finally, your voice, soft and tentative, broke the silence. "James... why are you here?"

He looked up at you, almost startled, as if he wasn’t expecting you to acknowledge him. His eyes met yours for only a brief moment before dropping again, his fingers fidgeting slightly at his side. He looked embarrassed, maybe even ashamed to be there, as if he didn’t belong anywhere anymore.

“Laura…” His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, like it took everything in him just to speak. “She forgot her maths book.” He paused, swallowing thickly before continuing. “We started her homework, and it was only then she noticed it was missing.”

His explanation was so simple, so mundane, and yet the way he said it made it feel like so much more. Like this wasn’t just about a forgotten book. It was about him reaching out, searching for something—perhaps even without knowing what. You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral, though your heart ached for him. 

He was a mess, a man so clearly lost in his own grief and guilt, and it pained you to see him standing there, barely holding himself together. He looked like he could fall apart at any moment, and yet, here he was, making the effort for Laura, for something as trivial as a schoolbook. You swallowed the lump in your throat and turned toward the shelves where you kept the children’s books. “I see... Let me find it for you,” you said, your voice gentle, careful, not wanting to add to the weight he was already carrying.

As you moved to locate the book, your mind raced. James had always been distant, but today was different. He looked shattered, a man barely hanging on, and the worst part was knowing that nothing you said or did could fix that. His sadness was his own, something too deep and personal for anyone to reach, but it didn’t stop you from wanting to try. Even if you couldn’t save him, you wanted to at least ease the burden, to remind him that he didn’t have to carry it alone.

When you turned to see James, he had already stepped into the classroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The sound sent a shiver through you, sharp and sudden. You hadn’t expected him to come any closer, but there he was, just a few feet away now, the air between you suddenly thick with something unspoken.

Your heart began to race, and you could feel it in your chest as you inhaled the faint scent of his cologne—a subtle, masculine fragrance that was almost too quiet to notice. Yet it wasn’t too quiet for you. You had spent so many days since that afternoon thinking about him, about every detail of him, that missing his scent would be impossible.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure as you retrieved the book from the shelf, but when you turned back to hand it to him, your fingers trembled. You reached out, the textbook in your hand, but instead of just taking it, James’s hand brushed against yours. His touch was gentle, but there was something intentional about it, something that made your breath catch in your throat.

He didn’t pull away.

His hand remained on yours, fingers curling slightly around the book, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, his gaze locking with yours for the first time in days. His eyes, so full of sadness and longing, seemed to search for something in you, something he couldn’t say out loud. And for a moment, everything else disappeared—the classroom, the empty halls, the world beyond those four walls. It was just you and him, standing there in the stillness, the weight of all that had been left unsaid pressing down on both of you.

You couldn’t move. His eyes held you in place, and you saw something in them you hadn’t seen before—a hesitation, a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. His lips parted as if he were about to speak, but nothing came out at first. He just stood there, his body tense, his hand still on yours, his expression torn between so many emotions that it was almost painful to witness.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, two simple words finally broke the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, but it hit you like a tidal wave. The apology was raw, carrying with it all the weight of the things he couldn’t say—the regret, the guilt, the pain that had been eating away at him since that day. And in that moment, you realised just how much he had been struggling, how much he had been carrying alone. Your breath hitched, and you felt your chest tighten again, this time with the surge of emotions you’d been holding back. His hand was still on yours, his touch warm, but there was a distance between you now that went beyond physical space. It was the distance of two people caught between what had happened and what could never be undone.

You wanted to say something, anything to reassure him, to tell him it was okay, that you didn’t blame him for what happened between you. But the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was stand there, trembling under his gaze, as his apology hung in the air between you like a fragile, broken thing.

James’s lips trembled again, as if he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. He just stood there, looking at you with those sad, haunted eyes, and for the first time, you saw how close he was to breaking.

But then, slowly, his other hand rose, trembling slightly as it reached toward you. You didn’t move, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers gently brushed a strand of your hair. The contact was so delicate, almost reverent, as though he feared you might break if he held on too tightly.

He pulled the strand toward his face, his movements hesitant and slow, and before you could fully comprehend what he was doing, James pressed the strand of your hair against his nose. His eyes fluttered closed, and he inhaled deeply, breathing you in as though he had been starved of the scent, like it was something he’d been longing for since the last time he held you close. His chest rose with the depth of his breath, the movement laboured, as if the act itself was painful.

The sight of him, standing there with your hair pressed against his face, was intimate—achingly so. There was a vulnerability to him that broke something inside you, as if you were seeing a part of James he had kept hidden, even from himself. His expression twisted, and though his eyes were shut, you could see the torment etched across his features—the crease of his brow, the tight line of his jaw, the way his lips parted with an unspoken agony.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice trembling. He sounded broken, the words choked out like they were tearing him apart from the inside. “I’m so sorry.”

It was like he couldn’t stop apologising, each repetition heavier than the last, as though he were trying to atone for everything. His hand in your hair trembled, but he didn’t let go, as if holding onto that small piece of you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

His apology was raw, relentless, his voice cracking with every word, and you could feel the storm of emotions he was fighting to contain—grief, guilt, desire, all wrapped up in that one act of holding your hair to his face like it was his lifeline. You wanted to say something, to comfort him, to reach out and tell him it was okay, that you didn’t regret what had happened between you. But all you could do was watch him, your heart pounding in your chest as his pain washed over you. His other hand still rested on yours, and for a moment, it felt like the only thing connecting him to reality was the physical touch between you.

James’ breaths grew heavier, and his chest rose and fell with the force of his emotions. His eyes remained closed, his face buried in that single strand of your hair, as if he could hide from the world in that small, fleeting connection. 

“I shouldn’t want this,” he murmured, his voice almost inaudible. His lips trembled as he spoke, and when his eyes opened again, they were filled with the kind of torment that twisted your stomach. “But I can’t help it. I’ve tried.”

Your hand moved almost instinctively, fingers trembling as they brushed against James' cheek. His skin was warm beneath your touch, rough from the stubble that had grown in the past few days. He flinched ever so slightly at the contact, but then, as if he had been waiting for it—desperate for it—he leaned into your hand, pressing his face against your palm like a man starved of human touch.

The vulnerability in the gesture broke your heart. You could feel the tension in his body, the weight of the guilt he carried like a burden too heavy for one person to bear. His eyes fluttered shut again, and a shuddering breath escaped him, his body trembling as he leaned further into you.

"It’s okay," you whispered, your voice soft, trying to offer him some comfort, some relief. "You didn’t do anything wrong, James."

His brow furrowed at your words, as though they caused him physical pain. He shook his head, not moving from your touch but rejecting your reassurance with a stubbornness that spoke of the battles raging inside him. He couldn't accept it—couldn't allow himself to believe that he wasn't at fault. That this connection between the two of you wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "It’s not okay... I... I shouldn’t... I—" His voice cracked, and he drew in a sharp breath, his shoulders trembling as though the emotions were too much to contain.

You could feel him holding back, the restraint in the way he stayed so close but didn’t dare cross the line again. His lips were parted, and he kept stealing glances at you as though he wanted to say something more, to let it all out—but couldn’t.

"James..." you started, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. His hand was still on yours, holding it against his face like he couldn’t bear to let go. "You don’t have to keep punishing yourself. You’re allowed to feel, to want something... someone."

A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, but he said nothing, just kept his eyes closed, focusing on your touch. The silence was heavy, and it pained you to see him like this—so conflicted, so torn between what he felt and what he believed was right.

“I shouldn’t want this," he muttered again, voice choked. "I can’t. Not after everything I’ve done… not after Mary."

His words hung in the air, and the mention of her name felt like a knife to the chest. You knew this wasn’t just about you—this was about the weight of his past, the ghosts he couldn’t escape. His guilt over what had happened to her, the pain he still carried even though she was gone. But as he leaned into your touch, it felt like he was clinging to you, searching for something, someone to pull him out of the darkness that had swallowed him whole.

"James," you whispered again, your voice soft but firm. "You’re not alone anymore. You don’t have to be."

His breath hitched at your words, and for a brief moment, you saw something in his eyes—something raw and desperate, a need that went beyond anything physical. But then, just as quickly, he pulled back, breaking the contact, his face a mask of anguish.

"I can't," he whispered. "I don't deserve this... I don’t deserve you."

The words hit you hard, and you could see the pain behind them, the deep-seated belief that he was beyond redemption. He tried to pull away from you, as if punishing himself further, but you didn’t let him. You wouldn’t let him.

Without thinking, you leaned closer, closing the distance between you. "You’re not the monster you think you are," you said softly. "You’re a good man, James. And I’m here. I’m not going anywhere." 

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he fought back the torrent of emotions. 

You sighed softly, the weight of the moment pressing down on you as you searched his face. His pain, his guilt—it was unbearable to witness. You wanted to do something, anything, to take it away, to make it easier for him. You didn’t know how far you were willing to go for him, but the sight of him breaking down before you was too much.

"It’s awful to see you like this, James," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked into his tormented eyes. "If it would help... if it would relieve you, then you can claim what you want. Whatever it is, I’m here, I… I won’t say anything, it’ll be a secret. Like nothing ever happened."

The words slipped out before you could fully comprehend their weight, but you meant them. The offer hung in the air like a lifeline, and as soon as they left your lips, something inside James seemed to shift. His eyes darkened, a spark of something raw and desperate flickering to life. Hunger. The same hunger you had seen before but held back by layers of guilt and self-loathing. Now, at your words, it began to surface, threatening to consume him.

The maths book you had handed him slipped from his grasp, falling forgotten to the floor with a soft thud. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he were afraid to break the fragile tension between you, but he leaned down, his hands trembling as they cupped your cheeks. His touch was firm yet gentle, his fingers grazing your skin as though he couldn’t believe you were real.

His nose brushed against yours, his breath warm on your lips, and the closeness was intoxicating. You could feel the raw emotion radiating from him. It was palpable, and in that moment, it felt like the entire world had shrunk down to just the two of you. Nothing else mattered. Not the past. Not the guilt. Not the pain.

Just him.

"I... I don’t know if I can stop," he whispered, his voice strained, almost pleading as though he were asking for permission to give in to what he wanted. "I’m so tired of fighting it..."

His lips hovered just above yours, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. You could feel his hesitation, the battle waging inside him. But the hunger in his eyes was undeniable now. You closed your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest, and whispered, "Then don’t." 

It was all the permission he needed. James closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was hungry, desperate, and full of all the emotions he had been holding back for so long. His hands tightened on your cheeks, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go.

His need for you was overwhelming, and in that moment, it was as if nothing else existed but the two of you, lost in a sea of desire and emotion that neither of you could control anymore. 

James's tongue delved into your mouth, claiming you with a desperation that bordered on feral. He licked along your tongue, sucking on it, as though attempting to devour you from the inside out. His hands gripped your hair, holding you in place as he plundered your mouth. Between frantic, sloppy kisses, James tore his mouth away just enough to gasp out, "We shouldn't... This is so wrong..." Even as the words left his lips, his body betrayed his true desires. His hips rocked against you, grinding his hardening length against your core.

You pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on with breathless whispers. "Take what you need," you coaxed, your voice thick with want. "I'm yours, James. Let go and just feel..."

A low groan rumbled in his chest as James surrendered to the all-consuming need coursing through him. His tongue tangled with yours, licking into your mouth with a hunger that stole your breath. He sucked on your bottom lip, nipping at it with his teeth before soothing the sting with his tongue. "Fuck, you taste so good," James panted against your lips, his voice raw with desperation. "I've wanted this for so long… But I shouldn’t…" 

But even as the words left his lips, his actions told a different story. His hands were roaming your body now, as if seeking to memorise every curve and dip through your clothes. He groaned when his palm brushed over your breast, giving it a rough squeeze. "Tell me to stop," James pleaded, his voice ragged with need. "Y/n, please... I don't know if I can hold back if you keep encouraging me like this."

He punctuated his words with another searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth possessively. You could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh, his cock straining against the confines of his pants. James' hands slid around to grip your ass, pulling you flush against him. With a low groan, he turned and pushed you up against the bookshelf, pinning you there with his body.

"I want to hear you moan for me, Y/n," he growled, his voice rough with desire. His hands caressed up your thighs, slipping under your skirt. He nipped at your earlobe, his hot breath making you shiver. "I need to feel how wet you are for me." His fingers brushed over the damp fabric of your panties and you couldn't suppress the breathy whimper that escaped your lips. James rumbled his approval.

"Fuck, you're soaked," he groaned, rubbing his palm against your clothed slit. "I can feel how much you want this. How much you want me." He slipped a finger beneath your panties, teasing your slick folds. You gasped at the first touch, your walls fluttering around the digit. James curled his finger, stroking over your sensitive nerves and drawing out needy moans.

"That's it, baby," he crooned, working you with his fingers. "Let me hear how good I make you feel. I want everyone in this school to know who you belong to." He captured your lips in another searing kiss as he fingered you harder, his thumb circling your clit. The obscene wet sounds of your arousal filled the air, mixing with your wanton moans and the creaking of the bookshelf as James rutted against you.

Lost in a haze of pleasure, you could only cling to him, surrendering yourself to the intensity of his touch. In that moment, nothing existed but your rejected love and the overwhelming need consuming you both.

Your moans grew louder as James' fingers delved deeper, stroking over your most sensitive spots. Electric pleasure sparked through your body with each thrust, your walls clenching greedily around his digits. "Oh god, James!" you cried out, your hips rolling to meet his touch. "Don't stop, it feels incredible..."

He grinned, a wicked gleam in his eye. "You like being fingered in the middle of the class, don't you? Waiting for me to come claim you, to touch you like this where anyone could see." James curled his fingers just right, rubbing insistently over your G-spot. Your knees nearly buckled at the intense sensation, a flood of wetness coating his hand.

"Answer me," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Tell me how much you love being touched by me, even if someone walks by and hears what a needy little thing you are." To emphasise his point, James slipped his fingers out and pushed two back in, spreading them wide to stretch you open. 

You keened at the lewd intrusion, your pussy fluttering wildly. "Please..." you whimpered, not even sure what you were begging for. More, harder, anything to relieve the building pressure inside you.

"Please what?" James teased, pumping his fingers slowly. "Use your words, Y/n. Let everyone know how badly you need to be fucked."

He twisted his wrist, rubbing over that spot deep inside that made stars burst behind your eyes. Your moans reached a fever pitch, echoing off the bookshelves. Distantly, you registered the risk of discovery, but it only seemed to heighten your arousal. In that moment, pinned between James' hard body and the shelf, you didn't care who saw or heard. You just needed him to touch you more, to claim you completely. Consequences be damned.

Your body tensed, muscles pulling tight as your orgasm crashed over you. "Oh fuck, James!" you cried out, voice breaking on his name. Pleasure overwhelmed your senses, your pussy spasming uncontrollably around his fingers as you came hard. James groaned, working you through it, his fingers gentling. He rubbed soothing circles over your clit as you rode out the waves, drawing out your bliss.

"That's it, sweetheart. Let go for me," he encouraged. "You're so fucking beautiful when you cum."

As your climax ebbed, James withdrew his hand, bringing his slick fingers to his mouth. He licked them clean, savouring your taste with a low hum of appreciation. "Mmm, you taste as sweet as I imagined," James purred. "Seeing you fall apart for me, knowing I did that... Fuck, it's almost enough to make me cum in my jeans."

He rocked his hips, grinding his clothed erection against your thigh. You glanced down and saw a damp patch spreading on the fabric where his cock twitched urgently. James was right on the edge, aching for release. "Do you want to feel me cum?" he asked, voice strained with the effort to hold back. "Want to see me lose control for you?"

“Y-Yes, please.” You said, your voice still trembling with the aftermath of your orgasm.

James fumbled with his fly, freeing his throbbing cock. It sprang out, flushed and leaking, the tip slick with precum. He wrapped a hand around himself and stroked, hissing at the sensation. "Fuck, just like that," he grunted, working his shaft faster. "Watching you cum got me so hard, Y/n. I'm gonna... Ungh!"

With a final few tight pumps, James threw his head back with a guttural moan as his orgasm hit. Thick ropes of cum spurted from his cock, splattering obscenely across your skirt. He milked himself through it, riding out the intense waves of pleasure. Panting, James slumped against you, his softening cock still in his hand. He captured your lips in a languid kiss, sharing your taste between you. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with satisfaction.

"That was... Wow," he breathed, pressing his forehead to yours. "I don't think I've ever cum that hard in my life."

Your legs trembled, the aftershocks still singing through your nerves. You'd never experienced anything so intense, so all-consuming. James had ruined you for anyone else, with a single touch. You knew you were addicted to the way only he could make you feel.

James helped you smooth your skirt back down and straighten your clothes, his touch gentle but almost impersonal now. There was a new tension in his shoulders as he tucked himself away and refastened his jeans, movements sharp. When he turned back to you, his expression was unreadable. Gone was the vulnerable, broken man who had confessed his feelings. In his place stood a stranger, cold and distant.

"We're keeping this a secret, right?" James asked, his tone almost accusatory. "Like nothing happened."

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. Was this really the same man who had been kissing you so passionately and worshipped your body just minutes ago? Shame and confusion warred within you as you nodded mutely.

James searched your face for a long moment, his jaw clenched tight. "Good."

You swallowed back the hurt, forcing a stiff nod of agreement. "Of course. I won't say a word," you murmured, your voice small.

James' expression softened slightly at your acquiescence, some of the anger draining from his posture. "I didn't mean... Fuck. This doesn't change anything, okay? You're still the teacher of my daughter. I can't cross that line again." The mixed message confused you further. If he regretted what happened, why the anger?

But before you could respond, James was already turning away, taking Laura’s maths book on the floor. The dismissal was clear. Whatever connection you thought you'd felt, it was gone now. Just a fleeting illusion born of heat and proximity. Numb, you collected your own books, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. James wasn't angry because he regretted what you shared. He was angry because he didn't. 

Because he liked it too much, wanted it too much. And that scared him.

Because it terrified you as well, the intensity of your reaction to his touch. The way your heart raced and your body ached, even now. This thing between you... It was dangerous. Forbidden. But God help you, a traitorous part of you wanted to do it all again. To hell with the consequences.

Shaking your head to clear it, you slipped past James without another word. You had to get out of here, had to put some distance between your bodies before you gave in to temptation again.

As James left without another word, you fled the classroom just minutes later and you couldn't help but wonder what this meant for your future. Could you really go back to a normal parent-teacher relationship after this? Or would the memory of his hands on your skin, his lips devouring yours, be enough to drive you to distraction? Only time would tell. But one thing was certain - your feelings for James would never be the same. 

And that terrified you more than any other outcome.

───────────────

Following that afternoon, you had braced yourself for James to disappear from your life, retreating back into the shadows of his grief and responsibilities. Yet, to your surprise, he returned.

James would go to great lengths to ensure these meetings remained shrouded in secrecy. He would meticulously arrange for someone to look after Laura, his little girl blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in her father's heart. The logistics felt cold and clinical, but you understood his reasoning: if Laura saw you at his home too often, she'd start asking questions. And questions were the last thing he wanted to deal with. When he suggested booking a hotel, you sensed it was more than just practicality. It was as if he wanted to keep the entire affair compartmentalised—a small, dark corner of his life that could remain untouched by the chaos of his emotions. 

James often reminded you that it “meant nothing,” and part of you wanted to believe him. You had to. It was easier that way. You understood that his heart was still tethered to the past, to the memory of Mary, and what you shared could only ever be physical. Yet, despite the rationalisations, the moments you spent together ignited a fire within you, leaving you both breathless and craving more.

You wrestled with that notion, knowing deep down that it was true. It was just a carnal pleasure for him—an escape from the suffocating weight of his past and the present responsibilities of being a father. And yet, you found it hard to convince yourself that it didn’t mean anything to you, too. Every time he wrapped his arms around you, his touch igniting a fire within you, it felt more profound than mere physicality. You longed for it to be something real, but reality kept slapping you in the face, reminding you that this was just a distraction for him.

You were drawn to him, and every shared breath and fleeting glance ignited a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to let you in. But with every whispered promise exchanged in the dim light of the hotel room, the reality of the situation settled over you like a heavy cloak, reminding you of the limits you—and then James had set, the walls he had built to protect himself. 

It was one of those evenings. The hotel room was nicer than usual, you noticed, dimly lit by a warm, ambient glow that softened the edges of the night. You were lying on the bed in your underwear, your body sprawled across the sheets in anticipation. The room felt empty, save for the heavy silence that hung between the moments. You could hear your own heartbeat in the quiet, and the soft rustle of the door as it clicked shut announced James' arrival.

He still wore his jacket, but it looked like a burden, one he was quick to shed as he stepped into the room. The jacket fell to the floor with a heavy thud, and for a moment, he stood there, unmoving. His expression was clouded, a mixture of exhaustion and something far deeper that you’d come to recognize over these past weeks. James was multi-faceted, a puzzle of emotions that never fully aligned. Most of the time, he wore sadness like a second skin, carrying it with him like a cloak he could never quite shake off. But sometimes, beneath that sadness, there was anger—deep, raw, and bitter—or even hate. It was rare to see him happy, truly happy. The version of James that laughed or smiled felt like a ghost of who he used to be. 

Tonight, though, he looked utterly tired, the kind of weariness that dug into his bones and weighed him down. He sat at the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, his eyes distant. His hand found your leg almost instinctively, caressing your skin absentmindedly, as if searching for something—comfort, maybe. But you weren’t sure he could ever really find it.

You shifted slightly under his touch, the feeling of his fingers against your leg sending a small shiver up your spine. You glanced at him, watching his profile as he sat there, lost in his own thoughts. His hand traced slow, idle patterns against your skin, but his gaze was far away, his mind somewhere else.

"Long day?" you asked softly, your voice barely breaking the silence. 

James didn’t answer right away. His fingers paused for a moment, then resumed their gentle motion. You could tell he was carrying the weight of something, but it wasn’t your place to ask—at least not anymore. Not in this arrangement, where your time together had become a strange kind of ritual, bound by unsaid rules.

He finally exhaled, a deep sigh that seemed to come from the depths of him. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice rough. "Long day."

You wanted to reach out to him, to offer some kind of solace, but you knew better by now. James was a man trapped inside his own pain, his own regret, and as much as you wanted to break through that barrier, you also knew he would push you away if you tried. So instead, you let him sit there, his hand on your leg, and you stayed quiet, letting the silence speak for itself.

His hand lingered, caressing your skin with a kind of absent tenderness that always seemed at odds with the darkness in his eyes. This was the James you had come to know—someone who needed, who sought out comfort in the most fleeting ways, but who could never fully let himself feel it. Someone who wanted but would never allow himself to have.

James shifted beside you, his movements tense and restless, until he finally laid down against you, pressing his body close, almost too close, as if afraid you’d slip away. His head found its way to your chest, clutching at you, not with tenderness but with something more desperate—like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline. The moment felt heavy, loaded with all the things he wasn’t saying but you could feel the tightness of his grip, in the ragged way he sighed.

You threaded your fingers through his ash-blonde hair, trying to soothe the tension in his body, but even your touch didn’t seem to be enough tonight. He was different—more on edge, more fragile, and the air between you was thick with unspoken need. James pressed his face deeper against your breasts, his breath hot against your skin, and you could feel how hard he was holding back, how much he was crumbling inside.

“I have nightmares,” he whispered, his voice raw, almost broken. It wasn’t just tiredness. There was something deeper in his tone—desperation, like he was running out of time, out of hope. “I don’t sleep well. Not anymore.”

You frowned, your heart aching for him. You knew he didn’t sleep well, but hearing him admit it, the way his voice trembled, made it real in a way it hadn’t been before. “What kind of nightmares?” you asked, though part of you wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear the answer.

James stayed silent, but his grip on you tightened, his fingers curling against your skin like he was holding on for dear life. He didn’t want to tell you, couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he buried his face against you, his body trembling. “It’s bad,” he finally muttered, voice shaking. “Some days it’s worse than others. Today’s one of those days.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. He was coming apart, breaking down, and you weren’t sure how to fix it. “James…” you whispered, but he didn’t let you finish, and he groaned in protest, his head over your breasts. His pain was palpable, suffocating, and you could feel the anguish in every breath he took. 

After another moment of heavy silence, James shifted slightly, his body tense as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. It was so rare for him to talk, especially about anything that truly mattered, and when his voice finally broke through the quiet, it startled you.

After another stretch of silence, James shifted again against you, but this time, instead of falling deeper into that quiet, his voice emerged, fragile yet determined. "Mary," he whispered, the name hanging heavy in the air between you. It surprised you—he hadn’t spoken about her since the time you saw her picture at his home, and you had assumed he never would. "I… I felt so guilty. When she got sick, all I could think about was how much I missed her—her warmth, just holding her like this." His grip on you tightened, fingers pressing into your skin, as if trying to ground himself through the contact. "But I couldn’t."

His words came out slowly, as if it pained him to say them aloud, but he couldn’t stop now that he had started. You stayed quiet, your hand still in his hair, listening as he unravelled.

"It wasn’t just the sickness, though," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if confessing a sin he had long kept buried. "Even when she wasn’t sick, it wasn’t... right. Our intimacy." His lips twisted in discomfort, and you could feel him tense against you. "There were things I wanted to do, things I thought we’d share, but she didn’t want any of it. She couldn’t, or wouldn’t, I don’t know." He sighed heavily, the sound filled with frustration and sadness. "We’d end up arguing—these cold, distant fights that never solved anything. And then we’d—" He cut himself off, swallowing hard.

"And then we’d have sex, just to stop the fighting," he finally finished, his voice flat, emotionless, like the memory was draining him. "But it was always… it felt so conventional. Like it was just something we were supposed to do, not something we wanted. Not something she wanted, as if I was pressuring her to do it."

James shifted again, burying his face in your chest, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. His hand still clutched you tightly, as if afraid to let go. The pain in his voice was clear, the regret, the guilt, the yearning for something that had always been just out of reach. "I loved her, but… I needed more." His confession was quiet, almost lost in the space between you. "I needed this. I needed what we never had."

It felt like a deep wound had been reopened, and you could feel the rawness of it in every word he spoke. He had been carrying this pain for so long, locked away inside, and now, lying here in your arms, he was letting it spill out. His guilt, his longing, his shame. And even though he didn’t say it, you understood—he wasn’t just missing Mary, he was missing the connection he never had with her. Something deeper, something he was still searching for.

Maybe even in you.

James stayed close to you, his face still pressed against your cleavage, his breathing uneven as the weight of his words hung in the air. You could feel his vulnerability, a kind of desperation that rarely surfaced, like a dam had broken, and he couldn’t stop the flood of his emotions. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say, unsure of how to respond to something so deeply personal. But you knew he needed you, your presence, your understanding.

You gently stroked his hair, giving him time to collect himself. After a long pause, you whispered, “It sounds like you were always left wanting something more.”

James’ grip tightened on you, his fingers digging slightly into your side, as if the truth in your words pained him. He nodded against your chest, a faint, tortured sound escaping him.

“I don’t know why,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, heavy with frustration. “Maybe I was too selfish. Maybe I wanted too much. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t talk to her about it. I didn’t want to hurt her more than she already was.” His voice cracked, as if the weight of that guilt threatened to crush him. “But I was lonely. So damn lonely. And when we… when we were together, it felt like she was just… enduring it. Like I wasn’t allowed to want more from her, to even ask.”

He pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart ache. “I needed things I couldn’t ask her for. Things I couldn’t even bring myself to admit.” His lips trembled, his expression torn between shame and an unspoken longing. “And she’d just… shut down. It made me feel like I was a monster for wanting anything.” You listened quietly, sensing the pain in his voice but also the deep frustration that had been buried for so long. It was as though he had locked away all these feelings, all these desires, believing he was wrong for even having them. But now, with you, he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“It wasn’t just about sex,” he continued, his voice rough. “It was about needing to feel connected, to feel wanted. I loved her, but… She never made me feel like I mattered that way.”

Your hand rested gently on his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly across his skin. “You’re not a monster, James,” you said softly, your voice full of reassurance. “You just… wanted to be seen. To be close to someone.”

He closed his eyes at your touch, leaning into it like a man starved for affection. His breathing hitched, and you could feel the tension in his body, like he was fighting to hold himself together. 

“But I never got that,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “With Mary, it was always… proper. Reserved. And after a while, I stopped trying. It just… wasn’t worth the fights anymore. We would go days without touching, without even saying much to each other. I’d come home, and she’d just be there, like a ghost, and I’d miss her… even though she was right in front of me.”

He let out a bitter laugh, though it sounded more like a sob. “God, I was such an idiot. I thought things would change, that one day she’d wake up and… see me.”

“I’m sorry, James,” you whispered, your voice thick with empathy. 

He opened his eyes, tears glistening at the corners as he looked at you. “But what if… what if I am just selfish?” he asked, his voice shaking. “What if I always needed too much? Too much from her… too much from you.”

You shook your head softly, your hand cupping his face as you met his gaze. “No,” you said firmly, your tone gentle but resolute. “You didn’t ask for too much. You just asked to be seen, to be loved. That’s not selfish, James. That’s human.”

He let out a shaky breath, his hand coming up to cover yours, his thumb tracing the lines of your palm. “But I’ve already messed things up,” he whispered, his voice filled with regret. “With you… I’ve taken so much from you, and I… I don’t even know if I can give you anything back.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words, the rawness in his confession. He was scared—scared of hurting you, scared of repeating the mistakes of the past. But he was also scared of letting you in, of giving himself to you in a way he had never been able to with Mary.

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you said softly, your voice steady. “I’m here because I want to be, James. Not because I expect anything in return.”

His eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of longing and fear, and you could see the war raging inside him. He wanted to believe you, but he had been hurt so deeply before, left feeling empty and undeserving.

“I just… I don’t want to mess this up,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to hurt you like I hurt her.”

You leaned in, your forehead resting gently against his. “You’re not going to hurt me,” you whispered back, your breath warm against his skin. “I’m not Mary, James. I’m different.”

For a moment, he was silent, his eyes closing as he absorbed your words. And then, slowly, his grip on you tightened, his hand moving to the back of your neck as he pulled you closer. His lips brushed against yours, tentative and unsure, but the need in his touch was undeniable. He was searching for something—comfort, release, maybe even redemption. And for the first time, you felt like he was truly letting you in.

You held his gaze, your hand still resting on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palm. James’ eyes, so full of pain and guilt, flickered with uncertainty as you spoke softly, trying to ease the weight he carried.

“James,” you began gently, “sometimes two people can love each other so much that it ends up hurting them. It doesn’t mean you did anything wrong, and it doesn’t mean Mary was at fault either. It’s just… sometimes things fall apart, and it’s not about who’s to blame.”

James’ brow furrowed, his lips parting as if to say something, but no words came. 

“It was a bad time,” you continued, your voice low but filled with compassion. “You both went through so much, and there wasn’t a way to fix it. Sometimes… love just isn’t enough to heal everything.”

James’ eyes closed, his breath trembling as he let your words wash over him. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed beneath your hand as if he were battling with the acceptance of what you were saying. “It doesn’t make you a bad person,” you whispered, your thumb brushing gently across his cheekbone. “It doesn’t mean you failed her. You did the best you could with what you had.”

James’ grip tightened on you for a brief moment, and then he let out a deep, shaky breath, his head dipping slightly as if the weight of your words was too much to bear. His forehead pressed against yours again, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. “I just… I keep thinking, maybe if I’d done something differently,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe if I’d been better, or tried harder—”

You silenced him with a gentle shake of your head, your fingers moving through his hair. “No, James. Don’t do that to yourself. You loved her, and she loved you, but sometimes that love isn’t enough to stop the hurt. It doesn’t make either of you bad people. It just… happened.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, the quiet stretching between you as he absorbed the truth of what you said. His hand slipped to rest on your waist, and you could feel him relax slightly, as if the burden on his shoulders had lightened, even just a little. “I don’t know how to let go of it,” he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion. 

Your heart ached for him, for the weight of guilt and grief he carried every day. But you knew he couldn’t keep punishing himself forever. He deserved to find peace, to let himself heal, even if it took time. “You don’t have to let go of it all at once,” you whispered, your hand sliding to the back of his neck, holding him close. “Just take it one day at a time. You’re allowed to feel everything you feel, but you’re also allowed to move forward. You deserve that, James.”

He stayed still for a long moment, his forehead still pressed against yours, his breath coming out in soft, ragged sighs. And then, slowly, he nodded, the faintest hint of acceptance in his touch as he held you close. “I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know how to not feel guilty.”

“You don’t have to know right now,” you reassured him, your fingers gently stroking the back of his neck. “Just know that I’m here. You don’t have to carry it all alone anymore.”

His grip tightened on you, and for the first time, you felt him truly lean into your touch—not out of desperation, but out of a need for comfort. It wasn’t about running away from the pain anymore; it was about finding a way to live with it, and maybe, just maybe, to start healing.

You held James close, his head resting against your chest as you softly stroked his hair. His body felt heavy against yours, weighed down by all the unspoken emotions, the guilt, and the unresolved pain. In the silence, a thought crossed your mind—one that had been lingering in the background of your conversations. “What is it, James?” you asked gently, your voice a soft whisper in the dim light of the hotel room. “What did you always want to do… but never could?”

He was still for a moment, as if processing your question, caught off guard by the depth of it. His fingers lightly gripped your waist, and you could feel the tension building in him again, as if the memories were flooding back too quickly. His breath hitched slightly, and you knew you had touched on something buried deep.

“I—” he started, but his voice faltered. His head shifted slightly against your chest, and he didn’t meet your gaze, almost shyly. “I don’t know if I can talk about it.” 

You continued to gently run your fingers through his hair, reassuring him with your presence. “It’s okay, James. You can tell me.

You could see the conflicting emotions playing across James' face - the fear of revealing too much warring with the desperate need for release, for absolution. His breath came faster, his fingers digging into your skin as he wrestled with himself. "I've always..." he began, his voice hoarse. "I've always wanted to dominate. To take control. But I never knew how. I was always too afraid."

He lifted his head to look at you then, his eyes dark and intense. "I want to be the one in charge, Y/n. I want to own your pleasure, make you beg for me. Like… more intense?" His words sent a shiver down your spine, a thrill of excitement mingling with the tenderness in your chest. 

"Show me," you whispered, your hands framing his face. "Show me how to be yours."

Something shifted in James' expression, a flicker of relief and determination. He surged forward, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that stole your breath. His hands roamed your body, claiming every inch of you.

"You're mine," he growled against your lips. "All mine. And I'm going to make you feel so good, baby girl. Gonna take such good care of you." He nipped at your jaw, your throat, marking you as his. His touch was firm, commanding, stoking the heat between your legs. You arched into him, surrendering completely.

James' hands roamed your body with a newfound confidence, squeezing and caressing every curve. He slid his fingers under the waistband of your panties, teasing along the sensitive skin. "Fuck, you're so wet for me already," he groaned, feeling the dampness. He hooked his fingers in the fabric and yanked, ripping your panties off with one swift motion. The cool air hit your heated flesh and you shivered. James threw the tattered lace aside, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of your glistening pussy.

"You like that, baby? Like me taking control?" He reached out and ran a single finger along your slit, collecting the slick on his fingertip. He brought it to your mouth, painting your lips with your own arousal. "Taste how fucking wet you are," he commanded. James pushed you back on the bed, looming over you. 

His clothes were still on but you could see the huge bulge straining against his zipper. He ground his hips against yours, letting you feel how hard he was. "Gonna worship this pretty little pussy," he promised, voice low and rough with desire. "Gonna lick up every drop, make you scream for me."

He pushed your thighs apart, settling between them. His hot breath ghosted over your sensitive flesh as he inhaled deeply. "Christ, you smell amazing," James groaned. "Can't wait to taste it."

He dragged the flat of his tongue up your slit in one long, slow lick. Your back arched off the bed, a gasp escaping your lips. James growled at the response, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure through you.

He sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. Two fingers pushed inside you, pumping in and out as he ate you out like a starving man. Obscene slurping sounds filled the room, mingling with your unabashed moans.

As James buried his face between your thighs, your moans echoed off the hotel room walls. His stubble-covered cheeks brushed against your sensitive inner thighs, the delicious friction sending electric shivers up your spine. You could feel his nose nestled against your pussy, his hot breath teasing your already drenched folds. "Oh god," you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair. "James, please..."

He pulled back just enough to look up at you, his eyes dark with lust. "Please what, baby?" he purred, dragging his tongue along his bottom lip. "Use your words."

Your gaze locked with his, hazy with need. "I need you," you breathed, writhing beneath his intense stare. "Please, James... I want to feel you."

A wicked grin spread across his face. "That's not what I asked, sweetheart. Try again."

His words sent a bolt of heat straight to your core. In that moment, you realised exactly what he wanted to hear, what he needed to know. Craning your neck, you cried out, "Please, Daddy! I need you!"

The words seemed to ignite something primal in James. With a possessive growl, he surged forward, claiming your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plundered your mouth, dominating every inch. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping you so tightly you knew you'd be marked tomorrow.

James broke the kiss with a gasp, panting harshly against your cheek. "That's right, baby girl. Call me Daddy," he rasped, voice dripping with dark promise. "This needy little cunt belongs to me."

To emphasise his point, he sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked hard, making you arch off the bed with a strangled moan. He lashed the sensitive bundle of nerves with his tongue, wringing desperate cries from your throat.

"Daddy, please!" you sobbed, fisting your hands in the sheets. "It's too much, I can't..."

James only redoubled his efforts, two fingers plunging into your soaked heat. He pumped them in and out, curling against your inner walls. The mix of pain and pleasure was exquisite, overwhelming. Your thighs trembled around his head, your toes curling into the mattress.

"So good," you panted, head thrashing on the pillow. "Fuck, James, your mouth feels amazing."

When his thumb found your clit and rubbed tight circles, it finally tipped you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and whiting out your vision. James worked you through it, drawing out every last aftershock until you collapsed bonelessly against the bed.

Pulling back, James wiped his slick mouth with the back of his hand, looking immensely pleased with himself. His hair was tousled from your desperate grip, his lips swollen from your kisses. "Goddamn," he breathed, drinking in the sight of you. "You're so fucking gorgeous when you let go like that. My perfect girl."

He crawled up your body, hovering over you. You could feel the thick ridge of his erection pressing insistently against your hip, hot even through his jeans. James captured your lips in another searing kiss, devouring you, consuming you. You could taste yourself on his tongue, musky and heady. "Suck me," he commanded, voice low and authoritative. "Get that pretty mouth on Daddy's dick and show me what a good girl you are." He asked, taking off his tie and shirt.

Your heart raced at the new dynamic between you, this confident, dominant side of James awakening a primal hunger in your core. You sat up and reached for his belt, eager to obey his orders.

You gripped the base of James' cock, angling it towards your eager mouth. You dragged your tongue along the underside, tracing the prominent vein from root to tip. Reaching the weeping slit, you swirled your tongue around it, lapping up the salty-sweet precum that beaded there. "Mmm, you taste so good," you purred, your words making James' cock twitch against your lips.

You wrapped your lips around the head, suckling gently as you savoured his flavour. Inch by inch, you worked your way down his shaft, relaxing your throat to take him deeper. James groaned above you, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair. "Fuck,  just like that," he praised, guiding your head to bob along his length. 

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, determined to give James as much pleasure as he'd given you. You let him guide your movements, surrendering control as you focused on pleasuring your Daddy with your mouth. Above you, James' abs flexed and his breath came in short, sharp pants. His grip on your hair tightened and his thighs tensed, signalling his impending release. You doubled your efforts, desperate to taste him.

With a low, guttural groan, James came undone. His cock pulsed against your tongue as he spilled his seed down your throat. You swallowed every drop, relishing the intimate connection. As James softened, you released him from your mouth with a final, loving kiss to the tip. 

James pulled you close, peppering your face with tender kisses. "That was incredible, baby girl," he murmured, voice rough with satisfaction. "I've never felt anything like that before." You snuggled into his embrace, giggling, happy to see him enjoying himself.

“But we aren’t done, yet,” And James rolled you onto your hands and knees, positioning your ass in the air. The new angle made you feel exposed, vulnerable, but also incredibly aroused. You could feel his eyes raking over your body, drinking in the sight of you laid out before him like a feast. "Fuck, you're gorgeous like this," James growled, his voice low and rough with desire. "All ready for me."

He delivered a sharp smack to your right cheek, making you yelp in surprise. The stinging sensation quickly melted into a throbbing heat that spread through your core. James soothed the abused flesh with his palm, kneading the plump globes of your ass. "Count them, baby girl," he commanded, punctuating his words with another smack to your left cheek. "Let Daddy hear how good his little girl is taking her punishment."

"One," you gasped out, your voice hitching as James continued his sensual assault on your backside. Each stinging slap was followed by a moment of intense pressure, the heat building within you until it exploded into pure, molten need. By the time James reached ten, your ass was flushed a deep pink and you were panting with need. 

You shifted your position, moving to straddle James' hips. His semi-hard cock nestled against your slick folds, already stirring back to life. You ground slowly against him, coating his length in your arousal. Above you, James groaned, hands coming up to grip your waist.

"Already so wet for me again," he praised, voice low and rough with renewed lust. 

“Of course James,” You rolled your hips, sliding your slick heat along his hardening shaft. The head caught on your entrance with each pass, teasing you both with the promise of what was to come. James' fingers dug into your skin, his control fraying at the edges.

Unable to hold back any longer, you reached down to guide him inside. With a single, smooth thrust, James sheathed himself fully within your welcoming heat. You both cried out at the exquisite sensation, bodies trembling with the force of your connection.

"So fucking perfect," James panted, fighting the urge to rut into you wildly. "Gonna make this last, baby girl. Gonna worship this sweet little pussy." He set a deep, steady rhythm, pulling out until just the tip remained before sliding home again. Each drag of his cock along your sensitive walls stoked the flames of your desire higher. Your nails raked down the sweat-slicked skin of his back as you matched his pace, meeting him thrust for delicious thrust.

You cried out at the sudden stretch, walls fluttering around his thick girth as he filled you completely. James stilled for a moment, giving you time to adjust before starting a slow, deep rhythm. Each drag of his cock against your sensitive walls sent sparks of pleasure racing up your spine.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," James groaned, picking up the pace. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he drove into you with increasing force. "So tight, baby. Like you were made just for me."

The wet sounds of your joining filled the room, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps. James' hands roamed your body, mapping every dip and curve as if committing you to memory. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, tongues tangling as he consumed you thoroughly. "My beautiful Y/n," he rasped against your mouth, the intimacy of your name on his lips making your heart race. 

His words, coupled with the relentless pleasure building in your core, pushed you closer to the edge. Your inner muscles fluttered around James' pistoning cock, signalling your impending climax. He reached between you to circle your swollen clit, the added stimulation sending you flying.

You rolled onto your stomach, presenting yourself to James. He gripped your hips, pulling you back against his hardness. With one swift thrust, he buried himself inside your slick heat, making you cry out in pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," James groaned, setting a relentless pace as he began to move again.

He pounded into you from behind, the lewd slap of skin against skin filling the room. Each powerful thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy through your trembling body. James' hands roamed your curves possessively, squeezing and kneading your flesh as he claimed you again and again.

"Harder, James,," you begged, arching your back to take him even deeper. "I want to feel you in the morning."

James growled, slamming into you with renewed vigour. He hooked one arm under you, forcing you up onto your knees as he railed you with abandon. The new angle allowed him to hit spots you didn't even know existed, driving you wild with lust. For hours, James took his pleasure from your willing body. You let him explore every position imaginable, determined to bring you to the brink of madness with ecstasy. You lost count of the number of times he came inside you, his hot seed painting your walls and filling your womb.

Through it all, James remained insatiable, his stamina and appetite for you seemingly endless. He worshipped every inch of your skin with his lips and tongue, marking you as his own. By the time he was finally spent, you were a quivering, sweat-slicked mess, utterly satisfied in a way you'd never known before.

As James pulled you into his arms, both of you basked in the afterglow. The shy, reserved man you once knew was gone, replaced by a confident, dominant lover who reveled in bringing you pleasure. And though the future was uncertain, you knew that you would gladly surrender yourself to James desires again and again.

You snuggled closer to James, marveling at the newfound intimacy between you. His strong arms encircled you, holding you tight against his firm chest. The warmth of his skin seeped into your own, "Tonight was incredible," you murmured, tracing idle patterns on James' chest with your fingertips. "I've never seen you let go like that before, so free and uninhibited."

James' eyes fluttered open, meeting your gaze. There was a vulnerability there that made your heart ache. "I've always wanted this," he confessed softly. "To lose myself in you completely, to worship every inch of your beautiful body until you screamed my name. But I was afraid, afraid of my own desires and what they might do to us."

You pressed a tender kiss to his jaw, understanding the depth of his confession. "Don't be afraid anymore, James. This is us, this is what we're meant to be. Just like this, skin on skin, hearts entwined."

James pulled you closer, his lips finding yours in a slow, sensual kiss. You poured all of your love and acceptance into it, hoping to chase away the last remnants of his fear. When he finally pulled back, there was a peace in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Smiling, you rested your head against James’ chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart. It was a comforting rhythm, one that made you feel safe, despite the complicated nature of what you shared. His arm was draped over you, holding you close, as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. The room was filled with a peaceful silence, broken only by the soft sounds of your breathing mingling together.

You closed your eyes, savouring the moment, knowing that these quiet, intimate nights were rare—fleeting even. Yet, you couldn’t help but cling to the hope that this, whatever it was between you and James, meant something more than just a temporary escape. The thought lingered in your mind, bittersweet, as you traced your fingers absentmindedly along the contours of his chest.

James shifted slightly beneath you, his fingers brushing against your back in slow, absentminded circles. There was a tenderness in the way he touched you now, different from the desperate, carnal need that had driven him earlier. It was softer, more vulnerable—like he was allowing himself to truly feel, even if just for a moment.

“I don’t know what this means for us,” he murmured after a long silence, his voice low and rough from exhaustion. “But… I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose you.”

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, your heart squeezing at the raw honesty in his eyes. For a man who had spent so long hiding behind his grief, his guilt, and his fear, these words felt like a fragile offering. You could see the uncertainty in him, the way he was torn between wanting to keep you close and fearing that he didn’t deserve to.

“You won’t lose me,” you whispered, brushing a lock of his hair away from his forehead. “I’m here, James. I’m not going anywhere.”

He closed his eyes at your words, a sigh of relief escaping him as he pulled you even closer. His hold on you tightened, like he was grounding himself in your presence, in the warmth of your body pressed against his.

For a long while, you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, as the weight of the night’s emotions slowly settled. There were still so many unanswered questions, so many unresolved feelings, but for now, in this moment, it felt like enough. You could feel James’ breathing slow, his body relaxing as exhaustion took hold, and you knew he was finally allowing himself to rest. 

As you lay there, nestled in the warmth of James’ embrace, the words slipped out almost without thought, carried by the tenderness of the moment. "Could you stay here tonight?" you asked quietly, shyly. It felt natural—right even. The way his body fit against yours, the way his breathing synced with your own. For the first time, it didn’t feel rushed, like the encounters that had come before. Tonight, it felt… different. Deeper.

But the moment the question left your lips, you felt him stiffen beneath you. His once relaxed body tensed, his hand that had been resting so peacefully on your back froze, and you could feel the subtle shift in his breathing—faster, more shallow. The warmth you had just been enveloped in seemed to evaporate all at once, leaving a chill in its place.

"James?" you whispered, lifting your head to look at him. His eyes were wide, almost panicked, darting around the room as if he were suddenly trapped. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His gaze met yours for a fleeting second before he tore it away, staring up at the ceiling instead, his jaw clenched.

"I… I can’t," he finally breathed out, his voice tight and strained. 

"Why not?" you asked softly, a sinking feeling forming in your chest. Tonight had been so right, so good. Why was he pulling away now? You reached for him, but he gently pushed your hand away, his movements almost frantic.

"I can't stay," he repeated, sitting up abruptly and pulling himself from your embrace. His back was to you now, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands trembled as they reached for his discarded clothes. "I shouldn’t even be here."

"But James," you began, your voice catching with the sudden wave of confusion and hurt. "It’s different tonight, right? It felt right."

He shook his head, pulling his shirt over his head, still refusing to look at you. "It can’t be more than what it is," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "This was a mistake."

Your heart plummeted at his words, the air in the room growing thick with the weight of them. "A mistake?" you echoed, struggling to keep your voice steady. "You don’t mean that."

But James didn’t respond. Instead, he stood up, buttoning his pants with shaky hands, his back still turned to you. It was like watching him retreat into himself, putting walls back up that you thought had come down, if only for a night. "Please, don’t make this harder," he finally said, his voice breaking slightly. "I can’t… I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you."

Your chest tightened, and the weight of his words pressed down on you, heavy and unrelenting. You wanted to reach out, to pull him back, but something in his posture told you that any more pressure would push him further away.

“Why does it always have to be like this?” you whispered, the ache in your voice undeniable.

But James didn’t answer. He pulled on his jacket, his back turned to you as he tried to collect himself. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the struggle in his silence. It wasn’t just fear—it was torment. The closer he got to you, the more it hurt him.

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong—that this wasn’t just about deserving, that it was about the connection you shared, the way he opened up to you tonight. But as you sat there, staring at his back, you realised that no matter what you said, it wouldn’t change the deep-rooted guilt and fear that had consumed him. It was too much for him to handle, and the reality of that hit you like a punch to the gut.

"James, wait… what happened tonight—it's okay," you tried, your voice soft, reassuring. You wanted to tell him how much you had enjoyed it, that it was more than just meaningless, that it meant something to you. But before you could get the words out, he cut you off sharply, his voice hard and cold in a way you hadn’t heard before.

“No,” he snapped, turning to face you with a desperate, almost frantic look in his eyes. “What happened tonight… it’s not me. I’m not a man like that. I shouldn’t have—" His voice wavered, but the panic in his tone was unmistakable. “You need to forget about this. Forget it ever happened.”

The words hit you like a slap, leaving a hollow ache in your chest as you sat there, clutching the sheet to your body. You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him how much it mattered, how much he mattered. But before you could speak, James’ next words sent a shockwave through you.

“You better take your pills tomorrow,” he said, his voice cold and matter-of-fact. “Make sure you’re not pregnant. I don’t want to be responsible for anything that comes out of this.” His words were biting, harsh. “I can’t—I won’t support anything related to tonight.”

The bluntness of it stunned you into silence. His words felt like a door slamming shut between you, a reminder of just how temporary this had always been for him. You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, the reality of his detachment settling in like a heavy weight in your chest. You wanted to say something, anything, to make him see that what you’d shared tonight wasn’t something to just brush off.

But it was like he was already gone, emotionally cut off from you.

“And don’t… don’t think this changes anything,” James continued, his voice rough with guilt and something else—self-loathing, maybe. “I still love Mary. I’ll always love her. This,” he gestured between the two of you, his face hardening, “you’re nothing like her. You’ll never be close to what she was to me.”

His words pierced through you, each one like a knife twisting deeper into your heart. He was distancing himself from you, pushing you away, making sure you understood that what happened tonight wasn’t about you—it wasn’t about love, or even connection. You were just a temporary distraction, a way for him to feel something, anything, other than the constant grief and guilt that plagued him.

As he grabbed his jacket and made his way to the door, he finally turned to look at you, his eyes filled with sorrow and regret. "I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely a breath. And before you could respond, he was gone, leaving you alone in the quiet, empty room.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you lay back on the bed, staring at the empty space beside you where he had been just moments ago. The warmth of his touch, his embrace—it all felt like a cruel illusion now, a fleeting moment of connection that had evaporated into nothing.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence that followed was deafening. The warmth of his body, his touch, his voice—it was all gone, leaving you with nothing but the cold reminder that, no matter how close you got to James, he would always pull away in the end.

And despite everything, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe… this was all you’d ever get.

“Of course you’re sorry,” you whispered, crying yourself to sleep.

[verinarin]

I feel like James is so incredibly touched starved. Like this man probably hasn't hugged in years. And I just know he'd either just melt or go completely feral

I wholeheartedly believe this man love language is physical touch and here’s my contribution….

List of things you would do that would still have James latched to your back like a koala

Cooking

This man would nuzzle on your neck, arms wrapped around your waist as you cook. Would help you cook if you ask, but he would rather just hug you from behind and giving your neck small kisses

Reading a book

If you read your book sitting on a couch, you will be in the perfect position for James to snuggle, he’ll rest his weight on top of yours. Resting his face on your chest, inhaling your sweet scent while you use his head as I make shift book table

Surprise hug after a long day of work

You hurriedly putting everything aside to run up to him and hug him = him hugging you back and then carrying you straight to the bed to make love, that’s the rule. You were cooking dinner? Welp that can wait…

Aftercare cuddles

He would be the best at this, after he gets you all cleaned up he’ll scoop you up to rest your head on his chest. Kissing the marks he left on your shoulders and neck, stroking your hair while one of his arms wrapped around your waist to caress your lower stomach

Shower together

This man loves to hug you while warm water washes you both added bonus if you had just rinse yourself off shampoo or soap, you smell so nice and comfy. He’ll even taste your skin, a quick nibble here and there while he hold you close.

Sleeping

Of course, he’ll big the big spoon, but he doesn’t mind you clinging on to him also. He prefers to hug you from behind, having your back flushed against his chest. His face buried in your neck, inhaling your scent while whispering how much he loves you as he wrapped his arm around you like a vice, afraid that you might go if he didn’t do so.

[zevrra]

“what’s wrong my love?”

james sits between your thighs. his hands rub your calves while his head rests on your knee. lost in his own little world moments ago but now his soft gaze looks up at you. he gently hums as his fingertips massage your legs, inching as close as he can get to you. “i want you.” he responds in a soft voice. green eyes begging you without him even having to really say anything else.

“oh you…” you whisper with a smile. your hand reaches out to gently caress his cheek and as your hand touches his face he melts into it. puts the full weight of his head into your palm with a sweet kiss against your wrist just as his eyes fall close. the sight makes your heart beat hard inside your ribcage, pleading to be given to him. which was easy enough for you to do. “come here.”

his eyes befall you once more, tender and full of need, and with your permission, james rises to meet you. his hands settle on either side of the couch you sit on as he practically crawls into your lap. but he stops short, waits for you to give him the go. pathetically waiting for your every order. “can i kiss you?”

god, what a man.

you smile as he waits for your answer. your thumb rubbing against his eagerly awaiting bottom lip. you nod and he dives forward. pressing his lips fully into your own as he kisses you hungrily. he had been waiting for this moment for too long. every alignment and illness he could ever experience was gone the second he touched you. all he needed was you. his lips devour yours like a starving man, a whine escaping his lips into your own mouth as the taste of your lips was enough to drive him mad.

you laugh at his eagerness, leaning back just to have him chase after your lips like the desperate man he was. you can’t help but smile as your lips move in sync with his, your hand slides along his subtle jaw, moving slowly down to his chest, while your other hand pushes through his blonde hair and around to caress the back of his neck, pulling him up closer to you.

“please i want more, my darling, please…” he begs against your lips. he sobs a broken noise as his hands grip your thighs. his hips adjusting to grind his fullness into your shin. weakly he whines with the ever growing need for you swelling inside of him. he has been a good boy, he’s waited plenty long enough. he did as he was told and now he wanted more.

and how could you say no?