#dbf!james

He decided to drive over to your house to enjoy a cold beer and some company with your father, his best friend. He parked his car in front of your house, the engine of his old, rusty Chevy rumbling to a stop. He climbed out, his tall frame looming over the car, and took one last drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing brightly before he flicked it to the ground, stomping it out with the toe of his worn-out work boot.

As he approached the door, his eyes scanned the surroundings. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting an orange glow over everything. The neighborhood was quiet, with only the occasional bark of a dog or the hum of a distant car to break the silence. He could already hear the faint sound of a football game on the TV, a familiar and comforting sound to him. He knocked on the door, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The door creaked open, revealing you standing there, a surprise to James, who had been expecting to see your father. James's smile widened, and his eyes raked over your body, taking in the outfit you had chosen to wear.

“Well, if it ain't the princess herself," he said, amusement lacing his voice. “Is your dad not home, or did he send you out to fetch his beer?”

You rolled your eyes, not falling for his joke, and replied, “Nope, he had a feeling you'd come over, so he went to get more beers.” You crossed your arms over your chest, tilting your head to one side in mock suspicion. “You always make him run out of beer, you know that, right?”

James chuckled, a low, rumbling sound in his chest. “I don't believe that for a second.” he said, walking past you into the living room. “Your old man's just a lightweight. Always has been.” He dropped down onto the worn-out couch, making it creak under his weight, and leaned back, stretching his arms out along the back of the sofa.

You sat down next to him on the couch, your body close enough to feel the heat radiating from his. “Well, we have some time before he gets back,” James remarked, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Without warning, he leaned in, his lips parting as he prepared to capture yours in a kiss. You tensed, unsure of how to react, but you managed to place a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly.

“No, James I can’t.” you shake your head. “I’m going to a friend's house later.” He cocked an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with curiosity and a hint of something darker.

James's eyes widened, and he sat up a little straighter, genuinely surprised. “A friend’s house?” he asked, his gaze raking over you once more. “Who is this friend?”

“He’s just a friend. You don’t know him.” you explain.

James snorted, unconvinced. “Right,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what are you going to be doing with this friend?” You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “Nothing, James. I'm just going to hang out with him, like I do with all my friends.”

James's eyes darkened, and he leaned in closer to you, his voice taking on a stern, almost fatherly tone. “You're falling for a trap,” he said, his jaw set in a firm line. “I've been around the block a few times, and I know what I'm talking about. You're too young and dumb to be messing around with boys like that.”

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle but firm. “I know what's best for you, sweetheart. And it's not some kid trying to get into your pants.”

You pulled away from him, indignant at his claim. “No,” you said firmly. “I can make my own decisions, James. You can't tell me what to do.”

James's eyebrows furrowed, and he sat up straight, his hand dropping from your hair. "What did you just say to me?" he demanded, his voice rising in volume. You hesitated, nerves fluttering in your stomach. You hadn't expected him to react so strongly.

“Come here,” James growled, his voice harsh and commanding. Without giving you a chance to react, he grabbed you by the waist and yanked you over his lap, your body landing with a thud, your face turning an even deeper shade of red.

“You don't fucking talk to me like that,” he said, his hand moved swiftly, pulling down your shorts and underwear in one swift motion, leaving your ass bare and exposed. He rubbed his hand over one cheek, the roughness of his palm contrasting with the smoothness of your skin.

“You need to learn some respect, you hear me?” he murmured, his voice low and threatening. His hand came down hard, the sound of the slap echoing through the room as he spanked your ass cheek, leaving a stinging sensation in its wake.

You yelped, your hands automatically flying to cover your reddening ass. But before you could even register the pain, James's hand came down again, this time on the other cheek. The slap was followed by another sharp yelp, your body jerking involuntarily at the sudden, unexpected punishment.

As the spanking continued, you couldn't help but feel a strange, foreign sensation stirring within you. A warmth began to spread between your legs, and your breath hitched in your throat. The pain was intermingled with arousal, a confusing cocktail of emotions that left you feeling both humiliated and excited.

Between the sharp strikes of his hand, James's voice rumbled in your ear, his words thick with authority. “You don't need anyone else. You got me, and I'll always be here for you,”

“Remember how dumb you got on my cock the last time I was over? You're mine, and you'll always come back to me.”

The reminder sent a shiver down your spine, the memory of the last time he had been over flooding your mind. The way he had filled you up, the way he had taken control, and how you had begged for more. It was intoxicating, the power he held over you.

You whimpered, the pain and arousal becoming too much to bear. “Please, stop, James,” you begged, your voice shaking. He pulled you up from his lap, your shorts and underwear still around your ankles. His hand wrapped around your jaw, gripping it firmly.

“You're mine, say it,” he growled, his eyes burning into yours.

“I’m yours James.” you say meekly, your eyes shiny and glossed over. With that, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a searing, possessive kiss. Your body trembled in response, both from the lingering sting of the spanking and from the heat of his touch.

James’s hand moved down, easily finding your wetness. He smirked, his fingers gliding through your folds, teasing you mercilessly. “Looks like you're enjoying this, aren't you, baby?” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with lust.

Just as he was about to push a finger inside you, the sound of an engine outside caught his attention. He stilled, his eyes widening as he recognized the sound of your father's car.

Quickly, James pulled his hand away from you, helping you to pull up your shorts and underwear. “Get up,” he commanded, his voice firm. “Your dad's home.” You nodded, your cheeks still flushed, and stood up, smoothing out your clothes and pulling up your shorts and underwear.

The front door swung open, and your father walked in, a wide grin on his face. “Anyone hungry?” he called out cheerfully, holding up two boxes of pizza.

He didn't seem to notice the tension in the room, or the fact that you were both still flushed and disheveled. He set the pizzas down on the coffee table and walks into the kitchen to fetch some plates.

As your father turned to walk into the kitchen, James took the opportunity to grab your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “You're lucky.” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and threatening. He released you and followed your father into the kitchen, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself as you listened to the sound of the two men laughing and joking in the other room.

Maybe next time.

The sound of the door opening is the absolute last thing you want to hear while two fingers are securely tucked into your cunt, but it swings open before you have time to withdraw them. You're laying beneath a blanket, but you doubt you look casual.

"Hey-!" You babble, voice strained as you try conjuring up some disgruntled remark. The man standing in the doorway knocks the breath out of your lungs, though, and you gape, "James?"

"That's my name," He muses, traipsing into your room like he's asking you what you want for dinner. You're frozen, shamefully so, and though your muscles tense as he walks forwards, you can't move any of your limbs. Shock has completely overtaken you, and you can't fight or flee.

"You were calling it just a minute ago," He continues, his steps slow and deliberately casual as he reaches the end of your bed, "Any reason?"

"No," You lie, but he's reaching for the corner of your bedcovers before you can stop him, and when he pulls them towards himself, they slide off of your obscene form.

"Ah," He nods in understanding, eyes fixed on your fingers frozen between the puffy lips of your glistening cunt, "That's why, isn't it, darling?"

"James," You whimper, and you're not sure whether you're pleading for him to leave you, to forget about this, or if you're pleading him to stay and watch.

"You wanted me to come help you, sweetheart?" He asks, lowering himself to perch on the end of your bed. The worst part of it all is your body's still stubborn insistence on staying right where it is, despite the mortification that seeps through your veins the longer you lay there frozen, laid out before him.

"Come here, let's see," He hums, reaching for your hand. His fingers ghost dangerously along the soft skin of your inner thighs, and he gently pulls your fingers out of your cunt.

You're close to tears.

You're almost paralyzed, you don't know why you can't move, why you can't leap from the bed and make a mad dash for the bathroom and beg him not to tell another living soul what he'd seen. But you remain frustratingly lax as he drags your hand up to his face, inspecting your slick-soaked digits.

"That won't do," He hums, frowning at the circumference of your fingers, "You need something bigger, don't you darling? Something better?"

"James-" Your mind seems to be stalling just the same as your limbs, his name the only thing you can repeat.

He holds your wrist, glancing away from your fingers to your face, "Can I help you, darling? Do you want my help?"

There's knots of nerves in your chest, their ends fraying until eventually they come apart and fill your body with a static haze. You want nothing more than his help, but that's a fantasy, that's something you can't have.

He kisses the skin of your wrist, letting your slick-soaked fingers brush a line against his cheek, leaving a glimmering trail behind them. Your lips part and you sigh, but it's not the answer he's looking for.

"Yes or no, darling? Can I help you?"

“May I be excused?” you nearly whispered, avoiding your mother’s gaze as you placed the dirty plates onto the counter, already recoiling when she offered you an exaggerated sigh.

“Don’t be silly, we still have guests in the other room,” she replied almost carelessly as she filled the kettle with water, shaking her head as she spared you a quick glance. “We were just teasing, Y/n, there is no need for you to act so sensitive.”

“I just need a minute,” you pushed, ignoring her cheap attempt to devalue your very clear frustration with the hour of humiliation your family had forced you to endure, your nerves practically vibrating with the urge to scream when she tutted at you. “I’m going to get a breath outside, I’ll be back before dessert,” you declared, pulling at your sleeves as you backed up from the counter.

“For heaven’s sake, what are you hoping to find out there?”

“I don’t know, mother, my sanity, perhaps?” you offered, biting your tongue at the little slip, nearly rolling your eyes at her faux shock.

“Maybe you could find a new attitude out there too,” she bit back, and you scoffed, shaking your head as you folded your arms over your chest.

“You mean it won’t just be handed to me like the rest of my achievements?” your voice was cold, blood boiling as you stared her down, her lips opening and closing within seconds as she considered a reply. “I’ll be outside,” you informed her, leaving no room for objection as you turned on your heel, making your way to the backdoor, avoiding the curious eyes in the living room watching your every move.

There was a brief second where you allowed yourself to look over at James, your silent plea for him to follow not going unnoticed as he evaluated the desperation in your movements, wanting to stand up and go after you in that very second even if he knew it would raise too much suspicion if he did. He hesitantly brought his glass to his lips, practically burning a hole into the door you just exited through, having to use far more restraint than reasonable to keep himself from not only going to check on you but to give your parents a piece of his mind as well. He’d been very patiently sitting at your side, making constant eye contact, silently begging for permission to step in on your behalf, being denied every time, much to his dismay.

“James?” your father frowned as his friend abruptly stood from his chair, offering the table surrounded by guests a quick smile.

“Excuse me, I just realized that I’ve forgotten your book in the car, the one you lent me months ago,” he explained with an almost shy shake of his head. “I would wait until after dessert to get it, but you know me, my mind is like a sift,” he laughed, the table joining him as he pushed his chair in, skilfully offering a simple yet convincing reason for his departure.

“Of course,” your father noted, sipping at his drink as well. “Maybe you could convince Y/n to grace us with her presence for dessert while you’re out there,” he joked, missing the way James’ jaw clenched, a brief nod offered before he made his way to you.

James pulled at the collar of his coat as he stepped into the snow, your coat tucked under his arm as he searched for you, brows furrowing when he found you around the corner lightly kicking at the tire of his car, barely doing anything as you mumbled under your breath. You heard his footsteps, of course, having hoped he’d be the one to come and find you, being almost relieved that he did.

“I’m sorry you had to be here for that,” you sighed as he stilled behind you, the position of his car providing the two of you an almost perfect amount of seclusion, hiding you from any wandering guests.

“You’re not the one who should be apologizing, I hate that it happened at all. You alright?” he questioned, eyes raking over you carefully as you sighed, shaking your head lightly as you delivered another nimble kick to the rubber,

“This family, these bloody people,” you scoffed. “Honestly, I'm surprised the living room didn’t burst out in flames after all that gaslighting," you paused when you felt his hands gently drape your coat around your shoulders, a strange sense of comfort filling you in an instant at the caring gesture. "I just needed to get away from that table for a bit," you explained, feeling almost empty when he took a step back.

"Would you like me to go back inside?"

"No," you objected instantly, turning around quickly to make sure he didn't move away from you even further, relieved when you found him close enough to touch. "Please, don't go," you breathed, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you considered the idea of him abandoning you to your angered thoughts. Your eyes were in deadlock as you leaned back against the car, maneuvering your arms into your jacket, the frown on your cold kissed lips only faltering when he took two calculated steps towards you, placing himself against you.

"My angel," he sighed, left hand lifting to your neck where his fingers settled among your hair, right hand doing the same on the other side.

"My Jamie," you offered in return, tone matching the softness of his as he looked at you, humming softly in reply.

"You are a phenomenal, talented, kind, and remarkably brave woman," he nodded, having paused between every word for emphasis. "And by some luck, I've found myself in the position to call you mine," he continued, smiling as your soft fingers found a resting place on his chest. "These lies they tell will never change who you are."

"They're just words," you noted, looking down at your fingers that carefully traced the pattern of his shirt.

"Doesn't mean they don't sting," James confirmed and you nodded, melting into his arms as you rested your forehead against his chest, his hands that were settled on your face now squeezing your waist softly. “Come home with me,” he suggested, and you couldn’t fight the smile that sifted onto your lips. “Think you’ve had enough of this house for tonight, don’t you?”

“Definitely,” you agreed, instinctively snuggling into him even more when his careful fingers drew small circles on your sides, chin settling on top of your head. “I don’t think they’ll let me go with you, though, not after I snapped back at my mother.”

“Tough,” he scoffed, and you smiled again, not even noticing how quickly he had helped you to calm down and snap out of the anxious state you were in when you came here. “I wasn’t planning on asking permission, if you want to leave then you can, I’ll fight anyone who tells you otherwise,” you hummed at the little declaration, James probably not realizing how much it meant to you that he was on your side, that he was offering you an escape. “You can stay as long as you want as well, just want you to be free of this bullshit for a bit or a while, doesn’t matter, the point is that you’ll always have a safe place with me,” his words were soft, the offer being one he’d held captive in his heart for far too long, having waited until he thought you needed it and he was nervous as to how you’d perceive it, scared you’d think he was trying to save you when you’ve been getting on just fine without him, but the way your arms tightened around him dissolved his fears in an instant.

"I love you," you mumbled into his chest, coupling the words with two quick kisses to his chest. “You’re my safe place, James, anywhere with you is where I want to be,” you admitted, and he wasted no time in delicately forcing you to meet his gaze by means of a gentle finger on your chin.