#i edited this when i was so fuckin tired so i hope there aren't any obvious issues w it

[neet-elite]

↳ EVENT 21. Kent (Aphrodisiac)

Pairing: Kent / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 4,568 Warnings: cheating, aphrodisiac, creampie, size difference, petname (kid) Prompt(s): 13 — aphrodisiac Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: kent oh man oh man my beloved <3 im so happy i got to write for him MWAH tysm for giving me this opportunity! it's always fun getting to explore his dirty mind! i was a bit excessive with this one, but i still home u enjoy it!

With the amount of panic lacing your words and the hefty amount of anxiety present in even just your fingertips as you take to tugging his jacket towards, well... Wherever you're planning on taking him, he's got no choice but to follow along, does he? Anyone, under these tense circumstances, would feel the urge to help you; a damsel in distress quite literally begging for his attention. Or at least they should, right? Even if he doesn't know you the best, he still hates to hear the whiny tension in your voice when you mumble for him to hurry up! Every huff and sigh you let out while walking with him tugs on his heart strings about as much as you do his jacket, implores him to do his utmost in helping you just to soothe those whimpers. It's what anyone would do, he thinks. And seeing as he's at least trying to reintegrate himself into the valley lifestyle, he figures there's no harm in doing as you ask and simply following along for now.

This was his first mistake.

He soon comes to learn that you intend on taking him to your farmhouse, hidden away and secluded from the rest of the town— that's when alarm bells should have been ringing in his dense head. But as the reliable man he tries to be, he followed regardless. Put it down to you needing attention towards something sensitive, right? That's why he's all the way out here, with you, alone. Your issue must be serious enough to require privacy, seeking a more mature adult than yourself to help remedy whatever situation you've unfortunately found yourself in. And no matter how often he's asked you to explain yourself on the way over to the farm, those comparatively tiny hands so eagerly yanking him in one direction only, sheer urgency alone pulling him closer towards you until you rush him inside of your home like a caught child; he's still got no idea what it is exactly that you're struggling with.

The next red flag is when you usher him into your bedroom the moment your front door is shut tight. Don't get him wrong, the decor is nice and all, but he's got no idea what could require his tending to in here. His tone questioning just as much as his expression is suspicious when you situate yourself before him panting— that's why you shouldn't have rushed home. Raising his eyebrows at you with: "I'm not so sure we have to be in here to discuss things, but..." despite your adamant encouragement.

"Please, Kent. Just trust me."

And it's not that he's complaining too seriously, he just doesn't understand. Doesn't get why your cheeks are so flushed as you prompt him into sitting on your bed, nor why you seem to bite down on your bottom lip when brushing your fingers against his shoulders. He can't comprehend why his hands itch similarly to yours the longer you seem to hover around him, pacing back and forth with wobbly legs like you can barely stand by yourself any more. For a moment, he finds himself wanting to carry you elsewhere, just so that you can be in his arms. But, he shouldn't, right? That's— That's just a fleeting thought, surely. It's only because you're standing right in front of him, rather than his wife. It's only natural for him to seek to help others, right?

Still, he needs to distract himself from his own thoughts, which is why he takes a strong grip of your wrist; an attempt to get you to stand still for a fucking minute so that you can simply explain yourself, but he quickly retracts his hand the moment he feels how heated your skin is. All prickly and flushed, his mind reeling with the thought that you suit the colour well. A pretty dusting of pink, a full body blush from head to toe. He has to physically shake his head to remove the intrusive thoughts.

"What, yer sick or somethin'?" he recoils, confusion clear to not only hear, but also to see on his face, he's certain. Brows laced before you as you grow closer to him, even as he sits he's still taller than you, isn't he? Exuding patience as he simply waits for your answer, staring you down with the kind of resolve one holds as a parent for a child.

But you neglect to answer him in a timely fashion, instead just chewing on your bottom lip as you shift closer; dangerously so, placing your pretty body between his wide open thighs and— shit, does he really think you're so pretty? How come he's never noticed just how pretty you are before... Pouting sweetly before him like you've done something wrong, his feet twitching with something equally as impatient as your demeanour as a faint sweet smell hits his senses. He's waited long enough for an answer, don't you think?

Again, he pushes on and tries to get you to explain yourself. Approaching you with tenderness that doesn't fit him, an awkward fumbling of words that he can't quite seem to remember given his time away from pretty ladies such as yourself. "C'mon, I can't help ya if ya don't—"

"It's hot, Kent." You sigh, and for a few seconds he's too dumb to speak. Mind blank to your explanation, surely that's not all you have to say.

And besides, he doesn't think that it's hot enough today for it to pose any kind of problem, especially not one that required him to be perched precariously on the edge of your bed like this. So he continues on, rolling his eyes at the ambiguous nature of your explanations.

"Cool down then?" Duh, isn't that obvious? "Don't think y'need my help with that, jus' run a bath or somethin'—"

You cut him off again, and he has half a mind to shut you up himself. Through means unfavourable to his wife, regret immediately surfacing to his cloudy mind. Annoyance at both himself and you existing in his tightly closed fists as you attempt to elaborate a bit further; can you pick up on how he feels right now? How the heat radiating off of you is sticking to his skin too, leaving him feeling all flustered alongside you? He feels a sudden urge to escape resting in his toes, you better not be contagious or— "No, like... Inside. In my body, it feels hot." You prattle on, and his nose scrunches in dissatisfaction.

"A fever?" He asks, taking the situation a bit more seriously now that you're finally divulging important details. He reaches a hand out to place the back against your forehead and a hiss crawls up his throat before swiftly retrieving his burned skin. You are feeling pretty warm. "What can I do t'help?" He offers, but the answer is obvious. Fluids, rest, and pain killers. He's sure you should have them in your house somewhere... But you shouldn't need him to get them for you. After all, you did walk him to your front door, did you not?

"It's— It's a bit more complicated than, ah, than that, I think—"

Loathe it thought he may, the small sigh you let escape when shivering between his legs is nice. Real fuckin' nice. Too fuckin' nice. A refreshing sound to bring his attention off of your doe eyes and instead down to your pretty lips. Of which look oh so kissable right now, glossy with spit, quivering ever so sweetly for him as if attempting to coax him closer.

Ah, he gets it now, you fucking vixen. He should take the opportunity to stand up right now. Walk away from your clearly oblivious body and back home to his wife and kids. Where he should have been by now, on his way home from a morning stroll in Cindersap Forest before you had intercepted him with worry. Even then you were a blushing, shivering mess. Really, that was his first signal, wasn't it? The pull he felt towards helping you, sweet talking him back to your farmhouse without even needing to say anything at all. Like you've got him under an insidious spell; his own cheeks feel a little warmer just by being close to you.

And that fucking scent, like a sweet perfume. He wants to ask what it is that you're wearing, only so that he can buy some for his wife, too. How intoxicating it is to him, luring him into leaning more forward when you continue to shudder into the cool air, as if he was intent on shielding you or something.

"Wanna start from the beginning, then?" He huffs, balling his fists into the sheets under him for any semblance of control, unease resting in his chest at the way he feels as though he lacks it when with you, apparently. A means to hold himself back from doing something he really shouldn't, cursing his inner self when he thinks about how attractive you are when seeking his help. To be relied upon in a situation like this is one of the better feelings this world has to offer, though he really should be withholding it from anyone but his wife. It's difficult to do so, though, when you're practically throwing yourself at him like this. He has always understood you to be easy on the eyes, but not once has he looked upon you like this, like a man starved as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. Frustration? For fucking sure, willing his pants to remain loose under you when you make a similar sweet sound again, a little gasp for air before answering him.

You must know what you're doing to him, right? And, like, c'mon, he's only a man after all. You couldn't blame him for the way he struggles to hold himself back, would you? Mind growing dizzier by the second, he's never felt this way before— not even with his wife for fucks sake. And somehow, instinctively, he knows that it's your own fucking fault. A rise of bile bubbling to dirty his tongue with a low hum, a judgemental sound that seems only to make your situation worse if the rub of your thighs together is anything to go by. Thought he'd miss that?

"I was, um... Walking through the forest, and..." Right, right. He understood that part. But his jaw his tight, taut with how much he has to restrain himself when your scent is overwhelming his senses. So he refrains from speaking his mind in favour of letting you dig your own metaphorical grave, a pretty picture between his wide thighs. He could probably look at you like this forever; keeping a mental note for safe keeping, or for later? He can't keep up with how fuzzy he feels, all warm and nice... It's only your voice that pulls him out of his leering, and even then he can't help but to lean into it. Like a siren song.

You shudder when he nods for you to continue, and he hates how good it feels to hold such power over you. How soft and small you look just standing there, head hung low in assumed shame, legs trembling under his watchful gaze. Are you scared, little bunny? Worried the big bad wolf is gonna do something bad to you?

Perhaps you should be, because he's a little afraid himself of what his claws can do, too. Sitting staring at you with an urge to bear his fangs, some primal part of him just begging to sink something into you. Claws, teeth, cock?

It's disgusting, really, how strongly he feels right now. The way his tummy burns at the sight of you looking so desperate, needy little thing tripping over your words as you attempt to explain your degenerate behaviour to him. Pheromones wrapping around him so sweetly that he's got no choice but to get drunk off of you. Y'know, you look you cute when you're struggling like that. Trying to get his attention by rolling over to show your tummy? Baby, with the way you've got him feeling already, you needn't have to try at all. He's already enraptured, hanging on to your every word with a twitch in his pants. Gross, right? Deplorable, even, considering he's a married man with two kids.

"Um... So, I saw this, ah— This pretty flower that I've never seen before when, when I was out and I— I sniffed it,"

Fucking idiot, a condescending tut escaping him at your lack of survival skills. Still, he's got no idea what the fuck you're truly talking about, but to unknowingly do something so stupid without considering the fact that there could be adverse effects to what you've just done— some flowers are poisonous, y'know?

But still he allows you room to continue. Folds his arms in front of him like a disapproving father would, but listens nonetheless. Doing his best to ignore the ache in his core when you flutter your lashes at him so cutely, still sighing and huffing away to yourself with assumed heat. "It— I mean it smelled good, y'know? Maybe... A little too sweet? But— That doesn't matter, what matters is— fuck, sorry. Um, point being that about five minutes later I started feeling... Funny."

"Funny how?" He asks sternly. Funny like me? Like how he's feeling sick to his stomach, a weird flutter in his chest at the way you gaze at him through half lids.

"Like... Like hot! Like I said, it feels hot, right... Um, sorry, this is embarrassing but... Here."

Pointing at your tummy, or perhaps a little lower... Right at your womb? You're right, that is embarrassing for you, and it should also be mortifying for him; he should feel horrified to be staring at where your womb lies with anything but disgusting. Adoration coating his gaze as he tilts his head to the side in curiosity, lifting his hand to meet your height as he rubs a thumb along the spot, under your clothes that you've so helpfully lifted in order to showcase the location of your issue.

But that was an immediate fucking mistake wasn't it? Proven when you openly moan as soon as his thumb touches your overheated skin, instinct convincing him to press into your womb harder, to rub the skin across your own in an effort to leave his mark. There's no use in hiding his hard on now, fuck, he's not got a hope in Hell of even attempting to conceal how hard his cock throbs for your sweet whimpers, a brief empty pause shared between what should be ashamed parties, but instead; greed. A palpable lust for more, felt in how your tummy jerks against his touch, hips bucked towards him just a miniscule amount, but still he catches it. And how his hands immediately grip too tightly to your hips, magnetic to your heated skin, a need to soothe you buried deep in his chest. Poor little thing, you're just so small compared to him, aren't you? So easy to lift, hauled up over his shoulder so that he can groan loudly at the innocent squeaks you let out. If only you hadn't went and fucked up today, roping him into your little mishap by way of pouting and prancing that pretty body around in front of him— fuck, he shouldn't be doing this. Throwing you down on your bed, unceremoniously flipping you onto your stomach so that you can't see just how much you affect him, how happy he is to be graced by the sight of your cute ass immediately wiggling in the air for him for you're in position. Just for him, yeah? All of this, those tiny fists bunched into your sheets, the harsh gulps of air as his hands reattach to your hips, effectively knocking the wind outta ya without so much as being inside. Isn't that just so fucking cute? Such a pretty girl, begging for him like that. It's been a long time since he's been in this kind of situation, and if he's honest, he never thought he'd be standing behind someone like this ever again. Frozen, cock just aching in his pants as it attempts to tent your way, jerking against the rough fabric of his jeans with a sense of urgency he's not use to; not even since coming back home to his wife. Things just haven't been the same, have they?

Did you notice, too? Is that why you sought out his comfort rather than anyone else's? Or is he just some passable cheap fuck, a first come first served affair into your wanting hole. He's not sure which is worse, squeezing his eyes shut to blink at you a few times; is this real? Are you really face down, ass up on your bed right now? Are you really shaking your ass from side to side, an open invitation to take exactly what he so desperately needs from you, something in the pit of his stomach urging him to take you up on that offer, an unforeseen force puppeting his greedy hand to his leaking cock, thumbing at it through the jeans for just a few seconds before he hurriedly, frantically, tugs them down with his underwear. Letting his cock spring free with a hefty slap! against his tummy, drooling some more precum for you when you clearly moan at the sound.

And he shouldn't. Fuck, he really shouldn't. Perverted paw already jerking his cock up and down to the sole sight of your ass, driven to experimentally flip your skirt up only to suck in air at the sight of your soaked panties. The fist on his cock grows tighter yet, already pumping at himself faster as he swallows thickly; a subconscious want to eat you out dry? Perhaps, but he blames it on that fucking stink you have attached to you and how it only grows in strength as he fucks his fist to your backside. Makes his head all empty, trying his best to hold on to the last remaining scraps of self control he has, fighting with himself to tuck his cock back into his jeans and to pretend he never even saw you today.

But fuck it feels so good to stroke himself to the sight of you. Watching the stain on your panties grow larger the longer he makes you wait, practically bending over himself from how sensitive his drooling tip is. Just lightly brushing against it with his tight fist is enough to leave him panting in satisfaction; he's never been so fucking hard before in his life.

All thanks to you. Whining, pathetic, ass up in the air, sticky panty wearing, you.

It's infuriating how much he loves the sight of you submitting like so, fucking his fist a few times before dumbly inching closer. Enough to let you feel the weight of his cock prodding at your clothed hole, forced into simulating the act of sex itself the second he rubs against your sheer panties with greedy humps. God, he's just so fucking desperate for it all of a sudden. Needs to wet his cock as soon as possible, an indescribable yearning for you tucked away behind his heart, snaking its way down to his tummy and finally resting in his balls as he stupidly pulls your panties to the side.

And then it's immediately over for him, isn't it? Not a single word shared and he's already pushing his drooling cock into your hot cunt. The sheer tightness that greets him as you involuntarily clench around his length is irritating in how fucking good it feels; his voice coming out strained and upset with "Are y'being fuckin' serious? Fuck, kid. So fuckin' tight for me, y'need it that bad?"

It's not really a question. Not when he can tell how genuine you are in your need to be dicked down, whining and mumbling into your sheets, a cute babble off appreciation for how well his fat cock stretches you out. And he's not even sure if he can fit it all the way in, offering you little fucks to help coat his whole cock in your slick to hopefully make the glide a bit easier. He might be out of his fucking mind right now, but he still has the decency to make things easier on you. But the fire in his tummy begs him to continue. The nails digging into your ass plead for more. The way you whine a high pitched please! motivates him to push all the way in anyway, forcing you to take his full length whether you're comfortable with it or not.

And then he just can't seem to stop. Enticed into fucking you too fast and too hard by the spell you have him under, the sickeningly sweet scent emanating from you whispering sweet nothings in his ear, the way your gushy cunt just seems to suck him in deeper, begging for his cock to fuck harder with every heavy stroke he offers it. Like he's not fully there, dumb to his surroundings besides the loud slap of wet skin on skin ringing in his ears, and the too good pressure on the tip of his cock, every single pulse of your cunt squirming around his girth prompting a rough moan to crawl up his tight throat. Until he starts to clench his teeth in focus, resolved to only let out rushed exhales so that he can instead focus on your pretty whines. The squeak of your bed from under his unfair thrusts, lifting to his tip toes and pressing a hand on your upper back for stability; the deeper angle he's able to fuck your tiny cunt with leaves even him breathless from how downright fucking good it feels. So fucking addictive, being inside of you. His whole body thrown behind each thrust to leave you gasping, struggling to keep up with his selfish thrusts as he seeks only to help you out— but that's not exactly true, is it?

No, he wants to feel good too. He's come this far in the affair, neglecting his lonely wife at home who's probably waiting patiently for his return, all while he's balls deep in some other young cunt that just seemed to offer itself up to him. Falling on top of you like a dog, still yet humping despite the pang of guilt in his heaving chest. It's just— "God you feel so fuckin' good, tight fuckin' cunt, yeah? Needed t'be properly fucked, s'at all?"

He doesn't need you to reply, happy enough just to hear you struggling to respond, scrambling your hands on the bed as if you were trying to escape his greedy thrusts; but he's just so much bigger than you, isn't he? So much stronger, keeping you on the end of his throbbing cock simply because he wants to feel good too. Convinced that if he fucks you all better, then the spell will be broken. It has to be, right? His hand instinctively coming down between your legs to rub rough circles against your clit, a soft tut falling from his lips when you moan a repeat of his name so prettily that he can't help but to stutter his hips against you. Opening his mouth to say something, anything to take the focus off of how well your little cunt squeezes his fat cock, distract him from just how much he loves being buried balls deep in your tight hole, how he doesn't want tonight to end because he can't bare the thought of going back to his wife; not in the least because it feels better to be fucking into you rather than her. He wants to make you feel better, that's all, right? He's just— just helping a friend out. Repeatedly fucking his greedy cock into you just to help you out. Fuck, he wants to make you cry, too. So desperately needs to see fat tears rolling down your rosy cheeks as he pounds you into the sheets below, pressing his nose to your neck to inhale some more of the lewd scent you seem to be exuding.

It's easier to circle your clit when his brain is switched off. Simply moving with the motions as his lips press eagerly against your neck, opening his mouth just a little to let you feel his teeth graze against your sensitive spot every time his hips fuck you forward.

And he knows that you're close when one of your hands manoeuvres under your body to grab at his wrist. Are you begging for him to stop now? A laugh escapes him, all broken and barely there from the amount of moans that follow it. You're getting so tight around him, as if pleading for him to not leave. So cute, how honest your body is for him. A few more circles of your clit and you're falling apart on his cock already, you must be just as sensitive as he is, your insides squelching and squeezing all along his length as he stands upright again; not allowing you a single second for even a breather as he selfishly fucks you through your orgasm, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sound of your high pitched and croaky sobs, whining all pretty for him when he pulls your ass back to meet his every greedy thrust.

So frantic with his fucks, treating you more like a toy than anything else as you cream his cock, sinking into the too good feeling over and over again until he inevitably dumps a load into your hole as reward. Fucking you so full of it that it seeps out with his continued milking thrusts, repeatedly pressing on your lower back with one hand to keep your cunt sucking his cock empty while his other hand cards through his hair, only just now realising how sticky with sweat he is.

It makes sense, given the heat you've shared with him. His breathing ragged above you, eyes squeezing shut as he fucks into your brimming with cum cunt— the sticky substance that drips from your used hole and onto his emptied balls would ordinarily lead him to sober up from the experience; baby needs some aftercare?

But rather than offering him clarity, the wetness that still yet drips down your thighs only turns him on more, warming his cock in your tight, cum stained cunt, until he starts to soften.

Only, he doesn't. Cock still pulsing inside of you despite fucking you full, your cunt still attempting to nurse him into movement again. He merely sighs in response, bracing himself before pulling out anyway, hips humping the air immediately upon hearing your whines at the loss of contact.

"S'okay. Y'need more, dont'cha?" He coos down at you affectionately, gently helping you to lay down on your back on the bed for a round two.

And, seeing as he's already claimed your insides, he figures it shouldn't be too much of an issue to show you his face this time round. In spite of the guilt gnawing at his heart; you feel too good to give up. "Jus' keep this a secret, and y'can have as much of me as y'like, okay?"

#500 event! #sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv kent smut #stardew valley kent smut #i edited this when i was so fuckin tired so i hope there aren't any obvious issues w it #so sorry if so

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Wasted Time {One-Shot}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Language, High angst

Words: 1.4k

Summary: Nope.

Note: Just a likkle something that popped into my head an hour ago. I hope you like it. There might be a part 2. Might.

As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate it!

As you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

He scoffed and gave you that cocky smirk. "Lewis fuckin' Hamilton."

You sneered at him. He knew you hated when he okayed the cocky, self-centered role. He knew you hated it and was doing it anyway just as you knew he hated when you got disrespectful when talking to him and embracing your petty side with him.

You were both playing a dangerous game.

"Yeah? And remind me again who the fuck that is in my world because I got nothing."

Lewis sneered right back at you. It was a low blow, you knew it but you were never the one to fight fair.

"Be careful, Y/N."

"No. Fuck that! You be careful and do yourself a favor by remembering who the fuck I am. You may be Lewis fucking Hamilton, the big dick, sweet-talking star of F1 who has every man, woman, and child hanging off of every word he says but I am Y/F/N & Y/L/N. I will not just sit around and allow you or any man to disrespect or make a fool of me. That's  just not how I'm living."

Before he could respond, you swiveled and walked away, another thing you knew he hated and another thing you purposely did. You were getting extra heated and needed to move, preferably away from him or you would probably lose your shit.

"Y/N," Lewis called out his voice low and clipped, clearly in warning. A warning you ignored.

"I've told you about walking away from me."

"And I've told you about half the shit you did tonight."

"Come on. How is it the same?  Youre doing this shit to get a rise out of me. That was work," he explained.

The poke from the devil was a hard one and one you could not ignore. You stopped and spun back around to look at him. Your head reared back almost like you'd been sucker punched. As you gaped at him, the only thought was that this fool had the audacity.

"Work!!”

"Work," he repeated.

"I know you fuckin' lyin'. Work? So you cuddled up all he-he haw-haw was work? You with your arm around both of them was work? Both of their hands roaming the span of your thigh was work? You taking their numbers was work? What about dancing with them in VIP, work too? Do you take me for a fool--a joke? You think I'm stupid huh!”

Lewis pinched the bridge of his nose as if he were hanging on by a thin thread. When he opened his mouth you didn't allow him to speak.

"Unfuckinbelievable!”

"You're right it is. It's the same thing with you all the time. Aren't you tired, Y/N? I've told you if you can't handle my world then don't engage."

You didn't know if you imagined the alarms blaring around you, or the flames igniting around the room, but within 1 second and one sentence, you descended into chaos. Your entire being was scorching hot. The heat began at your face then blazed downard making you feel like Johnny fuckin' Flame himself. With your hands clenched into tight fists, you took note of their shake. You knew this was a category 7 level of anger.

For the life of you, you didn't know why this man and this man alone could bring you to this level of anger. You didn't know how he got so deep under your skin, or how he had this much power over your emotions. How had this man gotten here when you'd been so careful?

When your hearing came back to normal, he was still going.

"If you can't separate my work from my reality then remain separate from them. Don't keep doing this because it's getting old as fuck. Every time you see something you spin it and spin it until you come up with some convoluted version of what it really is then come and accuse me of being someone I am not. Do you understand how fucked that is?"

With every word you got angrier and angrier you were so angry you couldn't formulate words, couldn't make any sense of this. At one point you even began to believe that you'd convoluted the whole thing and you were at fault but the smoking gun in your bag was what flashed in your mind.

You walked to your purse that was resting on the table beside the door, opened it, and took your phone out. It only took you a moment to find what you were looking for. Seeing the picture again made you ready to throw the device in his face.

"Separate your work from your reality huh?"

You went as close to him as you dared because you knew if you got too close you could and would physically hurt this man. You raised the phone and held it in front of his face then you watched him study the picture that was sneakily taken from a distance that showed him and the twin models that he'd been surrounded by all night. One was leaning into his neck as if she were getting very familiar with one of his erogenous zones while the other was leaning into his face staring deeply into his eyes.  Lewis remained there smiling while his right hand was resting on the small of the twin's back whose face was in his neck. The whole thing looked suggestive.

"Separate your work from reality? A convoluted version of reality?"

"Where did you get this?"

"Accuse you of being someone you're not?"

When Lewis' eyes met yours his were concerned, stressed, and curious while you knew yours were cold.

"Where did you get this?"

He reached for you, but you evaded his touch.

"Remain separate from them? Do not engage?"

The worry lines between his brows deepened right then. He knew what you were going to say. You'd been spending so much time together how could he not at least know your thought process?

"Consider it done."

You turned and walked to the door. Lewis called your name over and over. Each one sounded more and more desperate. When you felt his hand wrap around your wrist, you yanked your arm but didn't manage to break the contact. Instead, Lewis managed to enclose you against the wall blocking you there with his arms.

"Let me the fuck go."

"It's not what it looks like I swear."

"Ok," your voice was low, monotoned, emotionless.

"I promise. Why would I do anything like this out in the open? Why would I take this risk?"

"Because you do all your dirt behind my back and closed doors," your monotoned voice stated. "Let me go."

"Y/N, come on," he began.

"You said you're tired right? That this is old? I'm tired too and you're right, shit is very old."

"Y/N..."

Lewis brought his face to yours, but before he could make you weak, you ducked under his arm and opened the door.

"You're just going to leave?"

"I dont know who the fuck you think you are but I know who the fuck I am and I have always been and will always be that bitch with or without you. Remember that shit."

With that, you walked out keeping your back straight, head high, and tears in. As you walked away you heard Lewis mutter one more thing.

"You're supposed to trust me, Y/N."

"And you're supposed to respect me. What's trust without it."

You stepped onto the waiting elevator and as it closed, your eyes locked onto one another's. You were both too stubborn for your own good and that stubbornness was on display right now. Both of you refusing to meet the other in the middle, refusing to appear to be the weaker one, refusing to let the other know who'd fallen harder for the other. From the look in his eyes you could tell he still wanted you, still felt for you but the lack of movement from his legs showed something else and it was all you paid attention to.

You didn't know what you wanted from him, or what you expected in this moment but he was speaking loud and clear though he was completely silent. The way he held the door with one hand and the wall with the other screamed confidence. He looked like he expected you to run back down the hall to him to kiss and make up. The longer you didn't, you watched the confident facade crumble but only slightly.

Once the doors closed and the image of him was gone, you slumped against the wall, hanging your head.

"9 months wasted," you whispered to yourself, "I'm so fucking stupid."

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#wasted time one shot #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton blurb

[randum-famdoms]

Hello! I'm reading one of your fic's on ao3 and was wondering when it's gonna be updated? I ABSOLUTELY LOVE the fic and wanna know how long until we get a new chapter! Love your writing! And I was so happy to see that you gave Mishima such a cool persona! I love the fic so much! I've been ranting to my friends about it nonstop (even though neither of them have ever played the game) but they both sit there and listen nonetheless! (I may even try and convince them to read it! It's a pretty interesting take on the whole game! And the part where Akira is worried that Mishima will have a problem with him being gay and Mishima just like "If I had a problem with it I would've said something back in kamoshida's palace" was amazing! I love everything about it and I can't explain in words just why I love it so much! It's just amazing! If I was better at art I would LOVE to make some fanart of it!!! Again I can't explain just how much I love it! I hope you're doing well and aren't sick!

(How was the dog sitting by the way? Hope it went well!)

Ahshdjdkjfndbdkjdl thank you??????

I just. *scream*

The idea that people can love a silly little thing I write for fun this much is kinda unreal to me. Idk how to respond???? Thanks????

I mean, I’ve reacted like this to fics I have read before but having it turned into myself is trippy. Like this is some weirdly dream or some shit. Idk man. Shit’s wild.

Every time someone tells me how happy they are about the way I’m treating mishima in my fic I am further convinced that everyone who says he’s a bad character is a fucking coward and if more people would just make Mishima positive content then the fandom would be better off. He does not get enough love and appreciation and I will gladly take on the mantle of Mishima Ambassador. He is my blorbo, my boi, and I love him dearly. He deserves better, both in game and in the fandom, so I just did it myself.

Also, I ain’t about to beg you for fanart because you reading my fic is more than enough already and then you sent me this ask and Ann bear gave me a heart attack from joy, but trust me if you think you’re a bad artist I’ve seen worse. Much, much worse. I took an art class in a very sports heavy highschool and 90% of the kids in there were teenage boys who thought it would be an easy A. The first assignment was to draw a realistic hand. You’d think that they were AI with how bad some of them looked. So yeah, any hypothetical art you make is beautiful to me, especially because I’m fairly sure that if anyone made fanart of my fic I’d cry tears of joy <3

I tried really hard to update every week and I failed miserably, so I’ve made the decision to cut back to every other week. I’m like 85% sure that I’ll get the next chapter up this Sunday. I started my summer classes today and one of them (my English class) is cramming a 14 week course into 4 weeks, but I’ve always been pretty good at English/reading/writing so I’m hoping that that won’t ruin my update schedule AGAIN. I swear I can’t go two weeks without something fucking up my writing/editing time. We’ll see how it goes. I am not sick don’t worry, Just like, super fuckin tired cause my sleep schedule is fucked. I’m pretty good otherwise tho!

Dogsitting went well! I actually finished up with that yesterday. The little demon I was taking care of had absolutely no braincells, and was very annoying, and she kept pooping in my bathroom no matter how often I tried to take her outside to shit, but at least she’s small so it was easy to clean up and she was a good size to cuddle. Overall it was a 5/10 experience that was turned into a 9/10 because of the couple hundred dollar paycheck I got for it. The family I was doing it for is uncomfortably rich lol. Pretty sure some of it is blood money because the dad is an ex-cop turned middle school teacher (neither of which make good money) and the mom is a Russian immigrant stay-at-home mom and they somehow own a huge house in a really nice neighborhood and can afford a two week trip to the Caribbean on that income. I ain’t gonna complain tho.

I’m excited to get chapter 11 written and posted, I think it’s gonna be really fun! Lots of good plot and character development is gonna be happening :) the fic is really picking up now that we’ve finally gotten over all the exposition hurdles. Only took 60k words lol (I swear I thought that it would take half as long as it did to get to this point in the fic, at this rate the things gonna end up 800k words long and I’ll be dead before it’s finished)

#sorry my response got long I had a lot to say #I love you tho #not to get parasocial or anything like I don’t *know* you #imma shut up now before I end up making this post any longer than it already is #randum thots