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quicksilversg1rl · 1 year

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Ghost Of Jealousy

James Patrick March x Fem Reader

Warnings: possessive james, intercourse (p in v), oral (f receiving), titty stuff (not a lot), and fingering - I think that’s all let me know if I missed anything :)

a/n: I got the idea for this while I was listening to Ghosts by Michael Jackson lmao.

You had been staying at the Hotel Cortez for quite some time, unbeknownst to you, a certain ghostly owner by the name of James Patrick March had fallen hopelessly in love with you, following you everywhere in the hotel and always keeping a close eye on you. He forbid any of the other ghosts in the hotel to touch you as if they even as much as thought to lay a hand on you, they would suffer something far worse than death.

It was just like any other day at the hotel, James watched you as you woke up, doing your morning routine-which he had memorized at this point-everything you did looked magical to him, he was mesmerized by you.

James wanted to reveal himself to you so badly, but he was afraid you'd reject him, so until he could figure out the perfect way to show his undying love for you, he just observed you.

****

The day went by pretty quickly and you had decided to end it by sitting at the hotel's bar. You ordered yourself a cocktail and once it was placed in front of you, you began taking small sips from it, enjoying the taste as the liquid hit your tongue. Your little ‘me time’ was soon interrupted by a man sitting down onto the bar stool right next to you, even though there were plenty of open one’s far from you.

You looked towards him as your straw was in your mouth, his eyes never leaving your body as he ordered a drink for himself.

"Uhm, can I help you?" You asked as you looked at the man.

"I just came over here to tell you how beautiful you are. Like seriously I was entering, and you immediately caught my eye." He said as he brought his drink to his lips.

"Oh uh, thank you." You said as you turned towards your drink again, taking your phone out, hopefully giving the strange man a sign that you weren't interested but he kept yapping away.

Meanwhile, James had entered the bar area of his hotel, excited to see you but his face slowly dropped as he spotted you at the bar, talking to a man that wasn’t him. Rage filled his body as the man attempted to touch your cheek, your body visibly uncomfortable by the man’s advances and although you and James weren’t anything, he was determined to make sure that the strange man seated next to you would leave you alone, as you were his and only his even if you didn’t know it yet.

James made his way over to you and before he moved past the man next to you, he made eye contact with you; you gave him a certain look, almost asking him to save you from the awkward and slightly creepy situation that you found yourself in and that was when James swooped in.

“Ahh dearest, here you are, I was beginning to think I had lost you.” He said as he made his way to your side, placing an arm on the small of your back.

“Oh hey honey, sorry I wanted to get a little drink before bed.” You said, playing along.

The strange dude, who you now knew as Michael, quickly moved his eyes between you and James, jealousy evident in his stare as his gaze stayed a bit too long on James.

“And who’s this?” Michael said, his words laced with venom.

“This is my husband.” You said as you took James’ arm into yours.

James smiled at the physical contact, looking back at you with loving eyes.

“Anyhow, dearest we must get to bed now.” James said as he lifted you from your seat, his arm linking with yours as he moved the two of you out of the bar.

Once you were out, you let out a breath of relief, grateful that you were no longer in that uncomfortable situation.

“Oh my God, thank you so much...” You trailed off, looking up at your knight in, 1920′s attire.

“Oh, the names James March.” He said as he picked your hand up and placed a kiss to the back of your palm. Your cheeks grew hot at the action, blush spreading across the apples of your cheeks.

“Well, thank you so much James, God he just wouldn’t stop talking about himself and he was wayyyyy too touchy so thanks for saving my ass. I’m Y-”

“Y/n, yes I know.” He said, finishing your sentence. Your eyebrows raised in confusion, how the hell did he know your name? And almost as if James could read your mind, he answered.

“I own this hotel dear; I make it my business to know each and every single person’s name that enters through those doors, especially one’s as beautiful as you.” He said as a smile tugged on his lips.

James’ little compliment went straight to your core, his eyes trailing over your body as he noticed your thighs clenching.

****

Your back was roughly pressed against the back of your hotel rooms door, James’ lips never leaving your neck. You threw your head back as his lips found that special spot, harshly sucking on the delicate skin.

“James please.” You begged as his lips travelled down to your collarbone, leaving bruises along his way.

“Shh shh, I finally have you and I am going to take as long as I please with you.” He said as he tapped the back of your thighs, signaling for you to jump. You wrapped your legs around him, your back soon colliding with the bed as James placed you down onto it, immediately tearing off the clothes that were on your body.

You were now fully bare in front of him, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, marveling at your beautiful body and thinking about everything he wanted to do to it.

Your hands soon reached to cover your core, insecurity bubbling inside of you as James continued to stare. As soon as he saw this, he immediately reached for your hands and pinned them above your head.

“Don’t do that, you are by far the most perfectly sculpted woman I have ever set my eyes on, and I intend on showing you that.” and before you could respond, his lips were latching onto your clit, eliciting a loud moan from you as the tension in your core was finally being attended to.

His tongue moved skillfully through your folds, prodding at your hole as his nose stimulated your clit. While doing so, James’ hands grabbed at your breasts, rolling your hardened buds between his fingers as he lapped up at your leaking cunt.

“Oh my God, James this feels so good.” You said as stars began forming in your eyes, the pleasure becoming too much and overtaking your body.

“James I’m gonna cum.” You said as your hands reached for his perfectly styled hair, messing it up as you brought his face closer to your core. He moved his tongue back up to your clit as he slipped a finger inside of you. Tears began forming in your eyes and with one last lick at your clit, you were finally pushed over the edge, your body shaking as you came.

“You taste absolutely delectable dear.” James said as he moved on top of you, his chin glistening with your release.

You soon pulled him onto your lips, his tongue immediately invading your mouth, tasting yourself on it. The two of you roughly made out as James got rid of his clothes, your hands feeling up his arms and eventually making their way into his hair.

You slowly began to feel James grinding his hardened length against your bare cunt, his mouth now moving down your neck and towards your chest, his lips making their way between your boobs, his lips slowly but surely moving towards your left nipple.

He took the sensitive peak between his lips, sucking on your nipple as though there were no tomorrow. He moved his lips to your right nipple, making sure to give it the same love as the other, all whilst still humping your leaking pussy.

“James please, I need you inside of me, right now.” You said as he looked up at you, your tit still in his mouth, the sight almost sending you into your second orgasm of the night.

Before anything else was said, James slipped inside your desperate hole, the feeling of him burying himself inside of you almost sending you over the edge.

“Fuck.” You said as James’ hips collided with yours, his cock drilling inside of you at an ungodly pace.

“You feel as amazing as I imagined dear.” James said as he buried his face in your neck, sucking on your sweet spot once again, the feeling was euphoric.

Just as you were beginning to feel that coil inside you snap, James pulled out and flipped you around, immediately shoving his dick inside you once again. He reached forward and wrapped his hand around your neck, bringing your back against his chest, the new angle causing both you and James to moan in unison.

His pace picked up again as you head rested against his shoulder, your vision going blurry as you clenched around him, the feeling sending James to release a deep groan right into your ear.

“James, I can’t hold it any longer, I need to cum, please.” You said as his pace increased, his free hand moving towards your front and toying with your clit, the added pleasure causing your body to tremble against his.

“Please, James, pl-please.” You begged, James continued his assault on your clit, enjoying the sight before him, you all hot and bothered, waiting for his permission to let go, you were so good for him already.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re mine you understand that. No other man can touch you or even lay their filthy eyes on you. I’m the only one that can make you feel this way, right?” He said as he pressed his lips to your neck, his teeth grazing the bruises he left there earlier.

“Yes, yes James only you.” You said out of breath, the feeling of James’ mouth on your neck, his hand on your clit and his cock driving into you, all being too much for you.

“I need to hear you say it baby.” James said as his fingers kept rubbing harsh circles on your clit.

“I’m yours James, all yours, no one can make me feel this way, I-I belong to you.” You said as tears streamed down your face.

“Cum for me Y/n.” Was all James needed to say. You felt yourself finally being able to let go, the coil in your stomach snapping, your body going limp as James too reached his orgasm.

You fell forward onto the bed, James still slowly rutting into you from behind, helping the both of you ride out your highs.

Once he was done, James wrapped his arms around your middle, bringing your sweaty body against his. You smiled as you felt him place a kiss to your temple.

“You are without a doubt the most beautiful woman to walk this Earth and I would love to have dinner with you tomorrow, if you’ll have me.” James said, his words barely above a whisper.

Your heart melted at his words; he still thought you were beautiful even in the disheveled state you were currently in.

You turned your body around, so your chests were pressed against one another.

“I’d love to have dinner with you James.” You said as you leaned up to press a kiss to his lips.

Once you pulled away and tucked your head into his neck, James couldn’t stop smiling, he finally had his dream girl.

****

Taglist: @v-love @laynna-mcknight @demxnicprxncess @hxney-lemcn @evanpetersfav @kitwalkersgfff @yes-divine-ruler

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist :)

requests are always open :)

#james march #james patrick march #james march x reader #james march smut #evan peters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters smut #screaming crying moaning throwing up #fic recs #evan peters x reader #american horror story #james march fanfiction #ahs hotel #evans characters #evan peters x female reader #I WANT JAMES PATRICK MARCH INSIDE OF ME

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not-alien-girl-v · 1 year

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Hi honey! Hope you're doing alright! Could you write James March and Kit through the love languages? Love your writing!! 🥰

warning: language, mentions of sex, unconsensual touching (it doesn't happen but there is a mention of it saying its something he doesn't do) idk i just feel the need to warn about it

note: sorry this request is from october of last year i totally forgot about it cuz i hadn't watched asylum but then i found this request since i watched it and decided to give it a try. recently my life has been blegh. being homeschooled sucks im lonely anyways dm me to be friends i love having friends making friends everything yeah

Kit

words of affirmation: absolutely one of his love languages. pardon me for getting lewd quickly but i definitely think he's into praise like big time. he loves to tell you how good you're doing, how pretty you are, how proud he is of you, and of course it's not always when you're fucking i think in all aspects of life with kit by your side, he will be giving you any and every type of praise because he believes it's the most straight forward way to show his affection, especially since he's often busy and he doesn't have a lot of money.

quality time: quality time as a love language might be a little difficult with kit, he works a lot, and if you are a girlboss, you probably work a lot too, there's no guarantee your schedules will line up with each other which is what makes the rare quiet moments you spend with each other all the more special and cherished. it's not that he doesn't want to spend time with you, he would if he could. but he definitely tries. any moment he can get, he'll take you to dinner, to breakfast, out on silly little dates that may seem a little stupid in retrospect but its the thought that counts.

receiving gifts: bro is broke. bro works so hard to be able to afford a roof over both of your heads and food on the table and that's about the furthest his money can go without getting tight. so he tries to make it work how he can, he'll buy you little trinkets or little snacks while he's out, but for the most part, he'd mostly just give you found presents, like a pretty rock he found outside that made him think of you or something like that. again, its the thought that counts.

acts of service: now hear me out on this one so this may fall into the touch category but i feel like he'd be really into massages both giving and receiving but mostly giving. again, it's a very straight forward way of showing love and affection and it doesn't cost him anything he can't afford to give you. it's an act of service at it's finest, but i also think he'd love to eat you out too, if you're into that kind of thing. he doesn't have any facial hair but if he did, you know that shit would be red, because bro is a munch.

touch: keep the whole massages thing in mind, he loves that as a form of touch, but in general, he's not too into being all touchy feely, however, he does have a thing about touching at night when you're both sleeping, even if it's just an arm slung over your waist or his finger lightly grazing your arm, he mostly does it as confirmation that you're safe and sleeping next to him, he's always a bit paranoid. it's not necessarily a touching thing, as once again, he's not that big on it, but he'd still graciously accept a long hug whenever you're feeling like it or quick pecks on the cheek in passing.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

James

words of affirmation: i feel like it's just a known fact that james loves giving and receiving compliments. he absolutely adores it anytime you speak up and let him know how handsome he looks on one day in particular, though he already knows he always looks good, he still appreciates that it's you who said it to him. but when it comes to the things he says to you, he likes to come up with the most out of pocket inappropriate things to say to you at inappropriate times just because he can, just to see a soft blush form on your cheeks, it's a sight he never gets tired of seeing in his eternal existence.

quality time: time is something that james, as a ghost, has an endless supply of, so it's no wonder he chooses to dedicate it mostly to you. first of all, you're the love of his life, and second of all, what else is he going to do? leave you, a beautiful woman, alone in a hotel full of horny ghosts? he thinks not. sometimes he can get on your nerves, not even allowing you to go for a stroll around the hotel without him insisting to be by your side for it. he's very clingy, though he'd never admit it, and it would piss him off so much if you said it to him. with this, he's also very protective, borderline possessive, and jealous over you. he believes that you belong to him and him only and any moment spend apart is a violation of that. it's something you'll have to work on with him.

receiving gifts: dude's got money. he'd give it all to you if he could, and he absolutely would if you'd let him, but every time he tries to directly give you his money, you turn him down (see personally i would never #ghostsugardaddy but that's beside the point), so he instead chooses to buy you things. lots of things. expensive things. ridiculously expensive things. so much so that he simply will not tell you the cost of an item until after you've accepted it. i'm thinking jewelry, clothes, not much makeup but mostly lipstick in dark reds because it drives him crazy to see you wearing it, books, records, whatever luxury he can think of.

acts of service: bless this man but he has never had to do this type of shit for himself, acts of service and whatever, his idea of an act of service is to get miss evers to do it for you, whatever it is, which when you think about it, is an act of service, because he does take care of you, just not firsthand. but he absolutely makes you cum first in bed, via whatever you choose, and he is a fan of aftercare, even sometimes when it isn't really necessary, he still enjoys drawing a bath for the two of you to soak and relax in for a long while.

touch: he's a serial killer so he's definitely got a think for creepy skin caressing, except when it's james, it's not creepy, it's loving and adoring. sometimes you'll be awake for it, sometimes you won't, but it's not in a weird rapey way, like he'd never go any further without your waking consent, but he simply likes the feeling of your soft skin under his strong hands, loves to see the goosebumps raise in trails his fingers leave, and he's not huge on cuddling or traditional forms of touch like that, he'll give you a hug if you're crying, but he'd much rather talk your problems through, figure out quickest ways to fix them rather than wallow in sadness together. he's also often very out and about, so it's difficult to catch him in a morning cuddle session because he's usually up and out of bed before you're even awake, but every now and then you happen to wake a few hours earlier, and you make sure to take absolute advantage of him with his guard down, asleep, and cuddle up to his side. he'll usually just sigh, squeeze an arm around you and accept his fate.

#the evans #evan peters x reader #evan peters x you #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters #american horror story #american horror story fanfiction #ahs asylum #ahs fanfiction #ahs fanfic #james march fanfiction #james march x reader #james march #kit walker fanfiction #kit walker #kit walker x reader #ahs hotel

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missuswalker · 5 months

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𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 || 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✮ summary: after peter finishes… well, you know, he can’t stop himself from coming to see you. as if he’s not clingy enough, he can’t help but be all over you. at least he’s (trying) to sit still for once

✮ warnings: brief nsfw content, masturbation (not proofread)

✮ notes: man idk i just feel like peter is all clingy and touchy after he nuts

peter’s mind had been on you all day, trapped on the image of your hand wrapped around his cock. of course, that wasn’t exactly the case at the moment, considering it was his own hand. as he pumped himself, he tried his best to remember that little face you make when you cum. he’d been working on this problem of his for way longer than he should have, and he was searching for anything to push him over the edge.

the more he thought about you, your pretty tits, and that hella tight skirt, the closer he could feel his release building. picking up his pace, he bites back a whimper. more thoughts of you didn’t help his attempt at silence, a grunt or two escaping his lips. he pushes his head further back into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. free hand balled into a fist, he lets out a low moan, cumming all over his stomach and fingers.

after cleaning himself up, he stares at the photo of you two on his bedside table. he wanted to see you so bad. maybe it was just the post-nut fog, but he just needed you wrapped up in his arms. throwing on some jeans and a tshirt, he lets his mom know he’s heading out with a quick shout. he’s at you window in less than a second, sliding it open. he always told you to lock your window in case a creep decides to crawl in, but, in reality, the only creep that ever used it was him.

“hey, peter,” you greet, not even bothering to turn around. whenever your window was suddenly opened, you automatically knew it was your idiot boyfriend who could never just use the front door. “it’s not peter, it’s a scary murderer and i’m here to kill you,” he says, making a stabbing motion behind your head. “oh no,” you say, your tone bored and plain as you continue to study for your exams.

peter rolls his eyes, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “not happy to see me?” he teases, his lips connecting with the smooth skin of your neck. you push his face away, writing something down in a tiny notebook, papers scattered across your desk. “i’m studying,” you respond, eyes locked on your notes. his mouth is back on your neck immediately, despite you having just pushed him away.

“come on, babe, let’s hang out, you can study later, yeah?” he hums, nibbling right below your jaw. he absolutely would not be giving up, and you knew it. turning around in your chair, you look up at the silver-haired boy, giving an agitated look. he only gives back an innocent smile, pulling you up by your hand. “why are you so adamant on hanging out specifically right now,” you groan, allowing him to lead you to your bed. “no reason.”

pushing you down onto your unmade bed, he jumps, landing beside you. “hey, hot stuff,” he grins, posing with his face resting in the palm of his hand. “hey, dipshit,” you say in an overly-lovey tone, sarcasm evident in your dramatic smile. “you love me,” he laughs, pulling you into his arms, ruffling your hair. “sometimes,” you joke back, feeling less aggravated at your distraction of a boyfriend. he smiles, his face finding a place in the crook of your neck.

“mm, missed you,” he hums, taking a deep breath. you grin, playing with his hair. “i missed you, too.” he kisses your shoulder multiple times, moving up your neck and jaw. “i love you,” he continues, his lips lingering on your cheek. “i love you, too,” you snort, furrowing your eyebrows at his overly-affectionate behavior. eventually he settles, his leg bouncing a bit as he lays next to you, arms loose around your waist. “don’t fall asleep,” you tell him, trying to get a look at his face. “i’m not asleep,” he grunts, though it was clear he was about to be.

“yeah, okay.”

“i’m not.”

“shut up.”

short and sweet, i love him sm

(send in requests, i beg)

#x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff smut #quicksilver x reader #peter maximoff x y/n #xmen x reader #xmen #x-men #x men x reader #evan peters x reader #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x reader #kit walker x reader #kai anderson x reader #james march x reader

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kai-anderson-whore · 5 months

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The summoning (jmp x tate Langdon x reader smut)

Summary: you had always been fascinated with serial killers and true crime, one day you decided to try and summon your two favourite killers

Warnings: smut, three way, oral (tate receiving), p in v sex, doggy style 😏, summoning a ghost, ouija board,

Word count: 1,3k (another short one it was supposed to be longer)

A/n: this is a request by @villains-are-hot, thank you for the request and once again I apologise that it was very rushed at the end and I took ages to post this 😊

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

For as long as you could remember you had a unhealthy obsession with true crime/ serial killers. Some may say it's far from normal, it was frightening. You knew stories of cases watched all the documentaries and more.

Some people say it's the type of obsession you hear killers having before they kill. You didn't care it was a interest that you were so passionate about. You preferred learning about serial killers, how their mind works, what drove them to do it. The ones you liked learning about the most was Tate Langdon who got shot dead in his bedroom after shooting up his school one day in 1994. And the other was James Patrick march a well known serial killer from the 1920s to the early 1930s. Legend has it they both still reside in their place of death.

You didn't know if that was true or not, you visited the hotel that James Patrick march resides in but nothing, you couldn't exactly go to the murder house since people live there. It intrigued you deeply, the thought it could be true or not.

You didn't know what you were doing when the idea popped into your head, you thought it won't work but it was worth a go. Now researching things to do, how to summon ghosts, some where a bit far fetched others seemed fake but you were willing nonetheless. Finding a method writing down everything that had to be done.

You sat in front of the oujia board your fingers delicately on the triangle piece. You took deep breaths trying to stay calm circling the board three times before saying "James Patrick march and Tate Langdon I invite you to this space" waiting a few seconds you felt eerily quiet and cold.

"Is there anyone here?" You asked the board, you felt something pushing the triangle to yes, you gasped in shock now feeling nervous but your fingers still remain on the piece. "How many sprits are here?" You then asked feeling uneasy slightly regretting your decision. The piece moved to the number 2 you didn't know if it was you or if it was actually two spirits here but you slowly asked your next question "w-who are you?".

The board moved to around spelling out two initials JMP and TL you gasped removing your hands from the board standing up. Completely forgetting to say goodbye. You immediately grabbed the board putting it away "what the fuck, it's probably me doing it it's got to be" you whispered to yourself.

"Not quite dear" a voice chimed making you yelp in fright. "What the fuck!?" You turned around seeing two guys there awfully familiar to you, they looked identical like discrete descent, "w-who are you?" You asked in fear.

"I'm James Patrick march and this is-" "Tate Langdon" they said, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion "you're both dead no this can't be true." You couldn't believe what you were seeing they looked exactly like the killers you knew so much about. "How are you here?" You asked a thousand questions running around your head.

"Well you summoned us" Tate chuckled pointing to the ouija board. That's when you realised "shit I forgot to say goodbye" mentally cursing yourself, "it's quite alright dear, but I must ask how did you manage to get us free?" James asked.

"Dude she used the ouaji board to get us out" Tate said like James was dumb. "That's fascinating" James eyes light up "I don't know how we could ever thank you" James added. Tate's eyes on you like you’re his prey, swallowing a lump in your throat as his steps grew closer to you from behind. "I've got an idea" Tate's breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. "Y-you don't need to thank me" your voice was above whisper unsure what they mean.

"Well boy enlighten us with your idea" James's velvety voice made you shiver more. You couldn't deny they were both very attractive despite their tendency to killing. "Well she's pretty isn't she? Don't you agree?" Tate smirked his hands running down the soft skin of your arms. "I do agree with you she is quite remarkable" James agreed beckoning his steps closer to you.

You didn't know if your body was filled with fear or anticipation maybe both. Closing your eyes feeling their breaths breeze across your features. James colds fingertips grazing gracefully along your bare arms bringing goosebumps to their wake. "I think we shall reward her for setting us free from our eternal resistances" James smirked his pencil moustache raising up.

"I was thinking the same" Tate chuckled with a devilish smirk, you didn't know what to feel scared? Or turned on? Maybe both. Feeling their cold hands on you but you didn't protest instead you let out a small sigh tugging on your shirt removing it from your body your head felt like it was spinning feeling their lips on your neck. You felt yourself being guided to your bed. Seeing Tate now above you with a mischievous smirk on his face.

You didn't know where James was until Tate pull away from you, seeing James now in his briefs flipping you over on your hands and knee. You whimpered in anticipation for what's to come feeling James's cold fingers hooking into your underwear peeling the fabric of your underwear off you and into the floor. Tate in front of you his impressive length in-front of you, holding yourself on one hand stroking him, earning a low groan erupted from his mouth. You felt cold fingertips teasing your folds collecting your arousal bringing it to your clit circling it in slow torturous motions.

A small gasp left your lips, your body automatically responding to James's touch "that's it dear" he says huskily, Tate still knelt infront of you his eager length desperate for attention. You took Tate's cock in your hand stroking him kitten licking the tip making him buck his hips into your touch more. You took Tate in your mouth swirling your tongue along the tip, gasping as you felt James enter your heat.

James thrusted into you slowly you moaned against Tate's length. A low groan rumbled from his throat his hips bucked further in your throat. James thrusts grew more faster and harder, tears forming in your eyes. "Fuck" Tate hissed his hips essentially fucking your throat.

"You feel wonderful darling" James hissed his grip on your hips tight, nails digging into your skin only adding to your pleasure. "Fuck" you moaned feeling Tate twitch in your mouth signalling you that he was close. You kept your movements along Tate's cock till he releases into the back of your throat, swallowing every drop. James kept his movements thrusting harshly into you you felt close to the edge "I'm so close" you moaned. Tate was watching you and James with a smirk, his skin flustered. James didn’t stop his movements hitting that spot guaranteed to make you see stars.

With a few more harsh deep thrusts, your body trembles, back arching releasing over James’s length trigging his own release deep inside you. His thrusts became sloppy till they came to a halt. Trying to catch your breath “that was something else” you chuckled. James and tate shared a wicked smile between them, “oh we’re don’t done, we’re only getting started” Tate’s voice make a shiver run down your spine waiting on what’s to come.

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evanpeterswhoresblog · 10 months

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A Different Kind of High

Tate Langdon x f!reader

warnings: use of marijuana, smut, p in v, unprotected, slight fingering, lose of virginity, slight innocence kink? lmk if there’s any others!!!

summary: you died a virgin, but that doesn’t mean you need to be one as a ghost…

word count: 1.9k

~~~

“I stole some weed from the newbies, you want some?” Tate asks as he hops up on what used to be your bed.

You’ve been dead for only a few months, living in the imfamous Murder House for a year prior. It was strange being dead, seeing people pass by on the street everyday knowing that’ll never be you again. You suppose this was what you deserved, after all you committed suicide. But never during your life did you think this was what being dead would be like. Trapped in a house with a dozen other ghosts for eternity.

Tate has been your friend since before you died, of course you didn’t know he was a ghost until you joined him on the other side. He’s charming, very down to Earth. You really don’t know much about him, even now. You’ve heard whispers about him being crazy, and you believe it. Sometimes through the night you hear his screams, his murderous laughter. It doesn’t bother you though. You’re already dead, what’s the worst he could do?

“I’ve never smoked before,” you reply.

He chuckles. “Are you serious?”

You turn red. “You saw my parents, they never let me do anything. When I used to go out they’d make me be back by nine. Even on weekends. I always figured they’d know so I didn’t bother.”

“At least tell me you’ve drank.” You shake your head, a small laugh escaping at the face Tate makes. “Have you done anything?”

“I kissed a boy when I was twelve,” you answer honestly.

“Was that your only kiss?”

“Yeah…” You mumble.

“Wow, I can’t believe you’re this innocent, I always thought girls with strict parents did the dirtiest things,” he replies. He grabs the baggie of weed out of his pocket and holds it up. “You’re going to try this, and you’re going to love it.”

You don’t object, and instead watch as Tate begins to role a joint. He does it effortlessly, he’s done it many times before. You know from previous conversations that he’s done drugs much stronger than weed, the main one being cocaine. You had asked him how it felt to do it, to be alive and on a drug so strong. He told you it felt like he needed to run a mile while he was high. He also made you promise to do it with him one day.

When he finishes rolling the joint he offers it to you. “You want the first hit?”

“Fuck it, yeah,” you say.

He gives you a smile that makes butterflies swirl in your stomach. Though the two of you are only friends, you can’t deny how attractive Tate is. Even though everythings only been platonic, sometimes with certain looks and phrases, he makes you feel some special type of way.

You take the joint inbetween your lips, your eyes locked on Tate. He grabs a lighter and lifts it to the other end of the joint.

“I’d usually say take a small hit, but usually it takes a little more to get us high so take as much as you think is necessary,” he explains before lighting the end.

You inhale deeply, the smoke it hot and you know if you were alive it would burn your lungs completely. Thankfully though, it only stings a little. After a few seconds Tate takes it from your lips and you exhale slowly, watching as he repeats your actions. You lean back against the pillows, you feel a little something.

“How long does it usually take to get high?” You ask.

“I dunno a few minutes I guess, why? Do you feel it?”

Your head feels light and the room looks brighter. “I think so, I feel… lighter.”

“Oh yeah, you’re high,” he replies with a laugh.

He lays beside you on the bed, both of you staring at the ceiling in silence. You hear him take a few more puffs of the joint, wondering how he does’t feel anything yet. Your whole body feels electrified, every muscle alive and thriving. You almost feel like how you did before you died, almost. It makes you smile.

“Why did I never try this before…” you mumble, a small laugh leaving your lips. “Fuck I feel good.”

“I know right, it’s pretty great.”

You turn your head and stare at him. “Can I tell you a secret?”

He meets your gaze. “Of course.”

You don’t know where the sudden burst of honesty comes from. Usually, you’re embarrassed to talk about anything you did or more specifically didn’t do in your life. However, as you stare into Tate’s dark eyes you feel the urge to tell him every little detail about you.

“I died a virgin,” you whisper. “Like I never even got fingered or anything.”

You stare at each other for another few seconds before you both burst out into laughter. You don’t know why it’s so funny, but it is. You feel amazing, like you’re on top of the world. But you also feel like every word that comes out of your mouth is hilarious.

“I shouldn’t have said that I’m sorry,” you say as the laughter dies down. “I’m so stupid.”

“Hey, you aren’t stupid. I know a few other ghosts died virgins, like the nurses,” he replies, that stupid smirk on his face.

“God don’t say that!” You exclaim. “At least they chose to die virgins, I tried to hard to be fucked before I died but every time I started to become interested in someone my stupid parents ruined it.”

Tate props his head up on his hand so he’s now looking down at you. “Well on the brightside your parents are gone now so you can fuck anyone you want.”

“Yeah but the options aren’t exactly ideal. There’s really only Travis, but he’d definitely not be the best option for a first time,” you laugh.

“I’m here too you know.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“You know what I mean,” Tate answers, his voice quieter than before.

Your laughter stops at his words, and you meet his eyes once again. This time, you can sense something lingering behind his eyes, something you haven’t ever noticed before. You smile, trying to ease the tension that’s filled the room. He’s probably just messing with you. However, he doesn’t smile back at you, his expression stays the same.

You’re in disbelief. Is this real? Is your best friend really telling you he’d take your virginity? This can’t be real, you think. Maybe it’s just because of the weed, maybe it’s doing something to your head. You can’t deny the butterflies that form in your stomach at the thought of it though. Tate would be a good first. He’s experienced, but not with too many people. You find yourself suddenly imaging it, how it would feel, sharing that experience with someone you truly enjoy being around. It wouldn’t be so bad, you decide.

“All right,” You say. You kick your shoes off without breaking eye contact. “Is it going to hurt?”

He smirks and follows your actions. “It usually does the first time.”

You smile and start undoing the buttons on your jeans. You know if you hadn’t taken that puff of the joint you’d be selfconcious getting undressed in front of Tate. He watches you carefully as you remove your pants, your shirt, even your bra. It’s silent, but not an awkward silence, more of a comforting silence. You only look away from him as you slowly pull your panties off and throw them into the newly formed pile of your clothes.

It’s your turn to watch now. Your eyes trail up and down Tate’s body as he slowly undresses. He’s so beautiful, his body is perfect. You can’t stop yourself from reaching over and running your fingertips over the toned muscles of his abdomen. Your eyes meet once again and you almost shiver at how full his eyes have become with lust.

Quickly, he leans his head down and connects your lips to his. The kiss is slow at first, like you’re treading the water. But as you start to understand how it works, you move your lips against his, following his motions. The soft gentle kiss becomes full of passion. You twirl your fingers in his soft blond curls, loving the way his breathing gets heavier as you do so.

He moves on top of you, hit body fitting between your legs swiftly. Your body feels like it’s on fire, your skin feels like it needs to be touched. Tate rests one of his hands beside your head and the other begins to slide down your chest, your stomach, till it reaches the place it was searching for. You feel him smile into the kiss.

“So excited already…” he mumbles.

His fingers run between your folds, collecting the wetness that’s already begun to drip out of you. He circles them on your clit for a few minutes, making you moan from the new but amazing feeling. After that he slides his pointer finger down to your entrance.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Thank you?” He chuckles. He begins to slowly push his finger inside you and you grab his free arm.

“Thank you for doing this,” you clarify.

“I like how innocent you are, but I can’t lie I’ve always dreamt of being the one to rip that innocence away,” he whispers.

Before you can reply he lowers his head to your neck and begins to leave sloppy kisses along your skin. You can’t believe this is really happening. Once his finger is fully inside you, he starts to thrust it in and out at a slow pace. You moan, your back arching off the matress. He continues this for a few minutes before adding a second, preparing you perfectly for what’s going to come next.

He kisses down your chest until he’s at your breasts. He sucks and licks your nipples, it feels amazing. You can’t take it any longer, you need him. You grab his chin and connect your lips. He kisses you harder than before, biting and sucking your tongue into his mouth. You love it. You can’t get enough of it.

“I’m ready Tate,” you say breathlessly as your lips part. “I want to do it.”

“All right.” He pulls his fingers out of you and you watch him position his hard dick on your entrance. He looks down at you, brushing a piece of hair away from your face. “If it hurts to bad just tell me and I’ll stop okay?”

You nod, and before you can say anything else he starts to move. It hurts, but not too bad. Tate kisses you as he does this, it makes the pain more bearable. You wrap one of your hands around his back, your nails slowly dragging across the skin of Tate’s back. He only kisses you harder. His thrusts are slow, but your thighs still clench around his hips.

After a few minutes he asks if he can go faster, you tell him yes. The pain slowly morphed into a small pleasure that you enjoy. You continue to claw at his back, even more as his pace inscreases. You’re out of breath, the only sounds in the room being your moans along with Tate’s heavy breathing. It’s pure bliss.

The end comes faster than you want, but you don’t mind. You love the way Tate whispers your name as he cums, and how strongly his dick pulses inside you. You hold him close after it’s over, his skin against yours makes you feel alive again.

“Was it okay?” he asks as he lays on you.

“It was perfect,” you answer.

And so it was.

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coentinim · 2 months

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Sweetest Perfection...

...to call my own. James and his curious ghost body.

Contains: ADULT CONTENT. MDNI. Sexual content, body worship/exploring, James is on the subby/more passive side here (+masochistic), comparing him to a dead body a few times, mentions of murder, reader has a thing for his neck gash, reader is absolutely smitten.

Longest fic yet. A bit of character analysis sprinkled in? Oh and first ever porn fic <3 pls lmk what you think!

@feefymo @nahoyasboyfriend @taintandviolent @fear-is-truth @silverzoomies (?)

James was a secretive man - he rarely showed geniuine emotion and never appeared without his three piece suit. And even though he looked dashingly handsome in it, you couldn't help but wonder...

Even while intimate with you, he never disrobed fully. Most times, he just pulled his dress pants down and took you in the heat of the moment, be it after a stressful event or particularly exciting kill. He has seen, touched, kissed, and probably cut every single crevice of your body, traced every scar and all delicate gooseflesh, dug his nails into every possible surface. Yet, you were deprived of such pleasure, as he always covered at least parts of himself. If his torso was visible for a second, he was wearing pants. If his lower half was bare, he had an undershirt on. Truly, it wouldn't hurt him to just show himself!

He rarely rested with you, usually opting for giving you an exaggerated goodnight kiss and leaving, sometimes watching you sleep and entrancing himself with your calm pulse and breathing - he loved your life. But tonight, he felt unusually calm and satisfied with the day, resting on the bed next to you and gently threading through your hair. He stared off into space, allowing your body close to his, relishing your lively warmth against his cold. His breath was audible, but his heartbeat hardly present, making him seem like a cadaver incapable of movement and thought. The impression of a corpse was amplified by the open wound on his lower neck; he usually made sure to cover it with a cravat or a button-up, but now he lied there in just an undershirt and boxers, making the disgusting gash visible. It enticed you. It looked delicious.

You were entranced. Tracing every muscle and vein on his arm, carefully. For such a vulgar, degenerate serial killer, he was strangely uncomfortable with human touch. You figured it was a control thing, that he must hate vulnerability, and you smiled at the thought - how human he was despite it all! You dared not interrupt his reverie with anything but slight touches on his arms and glances at the gore on his neck. And then he looked at you, his empty eyes glinting.

"You seem awfully curious, dear"

You jumped at his sudden words. You were under the impression that he was asleep - or at least in the way he "sleeps", staring off into space and dissociating completely, consciousness impossible to reach.

You gathered your courage. "Well, we are rarely this intimate. I just wondered..." you trailed off, cringing at how lovey-dovey you sounded. He was a murderer, for God's sake, asking him to strip wouldn't make him think less of you! He stared at you, expression unchanging, as always when he was his authentic self.

He raised one brow. You had no idea how you should explain it, so you let your actions speak instead. Never breaking eye contact, you trailed your hand down his body, slipping it under his shirt. The feel of his skin was strange; cold and slightly moist, but not like in living humans, but as if some otherwordly mist sat atop his body. You trailed it up, caressing his chest and making his undershirt fold up to expose some of his body. He smiled that hungry, predatory grin at your actions.

"Ah, darling, your hands stir me back to life", he said, definitely intrigued by your ministrations.

The words rolled off his tongue with such ease, despite their poeticism. How did he do that?

And this way, he had allowed you to slip off his shirt. God, his body was so pretty, you just had to lean over him and press a sensual kiss to his chest, and the side of his body, and the side of his back. He seemed to like the positive attention as he hummed and observed you keenly. He usually would have taken the initiative by now, fucking into you hard and rough or making you gag on him to the point of tears, but this time, he just lied there, allowing you to kiss him, his lips slightly parted.

His eyes looked as if he was reminiscing something, and that's when you truly got how old this man was. You wanted to know his every thought and secret. But his mind had to wait, as you were busy taking apart his body tonight, anxious to try touching the most forbidden part of him... but not yet.

You gestured for him to sit up, and strangely, he complied, allowing you to do your thing. It was unfair, how majestic he looked even while sitting on the bed. Would it kill him to look casual for once?

You continued your kisses on his body, eating up the cold stiffness and the death of his skin. Up to his collarbone. Down his shoulder, to the shoulderblade. And he looked back at you, curious, but tired, and so, so calm. It was awkward, him not saying anything about how entranced you were with his definitely deceased charms. You stayed silent as well, kissing along one particularly deep scar on his back, letting your tongue dip into it for just a second. God, his taste. You'd die for his taste. Rot, sweat and cigarette smoke. Not a perfect combination, but it made your thighs clench nonetheless. How it enveloped you every time he held you close, his thick and veiny fingers in your pussy and sweet words in your ear.

You were worried. He never told you much about his adolescense, yet he did mention the scars were gathering there his entire childhood, and that his father was a particular case of sadism and aggression combined with religious hypocrisy. So you never mentioned it, anxious that he might just ignore you and go on a killing bender, lashing out as always in times of heavy emotion. Some things ran in the family, you thought.

But he didn't react, other than letting out a pleasured huff of air, muscles relaxing into your careful caresses. He had to admit, you had a way of handling his body into a state of ultimate peace and relaxation. You could make thousands as a masseuse, but he'd never allow such a frivolous career for his darling. You leaving the hotel for your dreaded job was already sacrifice enough on his part. If it were up to him, your hands would serve no other purpose than caressing his lifeless form and bringing avocat and marcipan chocolates into his lips. Decadent, sweet, forbidden. Your touch and kisses on his back grew more intense, though, as you had become more hungry for him. He gasped when you scratched his skin deeply. You knew his greatest weakness; sensual pain. Digging your nails into his textured back, you kept kissing and licking sweetly. Your nails drew the faintest hint of blood.

James swallowed thickly, his slit throat exposing all muscles used during the motion. God, you wanted your fingers in his muscle.

"Dearest- I believe you've become ravenous?"

God, his way with words. You were no match for him when it came to sweet talking. So you just nodded, feeling his strong hands grip your hips, maneuvering you onto his lap, only underwear separating your groins from touching. You suppressed a whine.

Again, you expected him to pound your cunt with his usual fervor, but he just held you there, leaning back against the pillow with that mad smile of his, expectant. You almost grinned, knowing that he wished for more agonies. So you wasted no more time waiting for his move, the arousal overtaking your body. You felt inclined to make him a bit less relaxed, though, and since he had allowed you to worship his back before, you continued the exploration with your fingers and lips. Your hand wrapped around his neck, right under his chin, and you tried to kiss his chest, but you've gone hasty with your arousal; you practically slobbered all over his body, sucking deep marks and biting harshly, making him groan in prespiration.

You had a target in your mind, so you inched your kisses closer to his neck. He has never been so submissive to you before - at least on his own volition. He just gripped your hips, so hard they almost bruised, and held you there as if forcing you to please him, so he wasn't entirely subservient to your touches. He bucked his hips into yours teasingly, making you whimper. Oh, you were losing your patience with this man...

Still holding his upper neck firmly, you pressed your lips to the edge of the gash on the lower part of it. Finally. God, you've been wanting to taste it for hours now. You licked the edge of it gently, not wanting to cause him too much suffering; it was an open wound, after all. He gasped and gripped your hips tighter in reponse. You hesitated, looking him in the eyes while giving the gash slow, kitten licks, as delicate as you could. And James Patrick March, the Ten Commandments Killer and the most prolific serial murderer in all of America, whimpered. Loudly. He winced in pain, but still smiled at your sweet hesitation.

"Go ahead, savor me... don't... hold anything back"

Why, your hesitation was completely gone now.

You have decided to devour your lover down to the bone. You sucked on the edge of the wound, and he jumped, gripping the soft material of your panties so hard it almost tore. Oh, that must have hurt.

But the taste... oh, his taste! The laceration tasted like blood, obviously, but also rot and a certain heaviness, like it was filled to the brim with James' absinthe. You couldn't help but dive a little deeper into the interesting combination, ignoring his desperate gasp and groan.

This time, his grip tore your panties to shreds, and he quickly removed the admittedly sticky material from your lips. You whined into the gash, kissing deeper, letting your tongue delve into it. You swiped against his muscle and trachea, all the while grinding your ample wetness against his hard on stuck in his boxers. His self control dwindled and he tried to take down the exasperating garment, sliding his hands from your hips, but younwere having none of this.

"You'll hold me on top of you. You will.", you parted from his gash to whisper it in his ear venomously, holding his hands on your hips, not allowing him to disrobe. He let out a whine so pathetic you had no idea he was capable of such noises. It was delicious.

His cock ached in the confines, grinding against you, and because he was the one in underwear you were getting more pleasure out of it than him! Outrageous! He hadn't felt so aroused in at least three decades.

You grinned and continued your assault on his wound. You gently sucked on the flesh, still holding the upper part of his neck, preventing his squirming. And oh did James squirm under you; his hips bucked up against yours at an unrelating pace and let out deep, guttural moans of pain.

Your forehead felt sticky with sweat and the taste of his wonderful gore, along with the control made your eyes roll back. You knew he was just dying to slip himself deep into you and pound your living, pulsing pussy, you were aware of his animalistic need, and denying him that very pleasure felt exhiliarating. It made you grind against him harder, your cunt fluttering with each thrust he gave back, each moan, each depraved cry of pain and desperation.

And then you sucked, harshly, feeling the gore swish and move under your lips, and hearing the scream of his pain. You felt the wetness between you grow and realized he came in his underwear.

It was all too much. His desperate ministrations overwhelmed you and you followed soon after, finishing with a groan, squeezing his neck so hard any living being would asphyxiate.

You collapsed onto his chest and he held you firmly, cradling you tightly, whimpering like a scared dog.

You sat up and wiped your bloody lips, assessing his expression, judging whether he felt any pain anymore.

He had the biggest grin plastered on his pale face.

"...once I gut you, right here...", he pressed a hand to your stomach, "I'll, ahhh, I'll return the favor"

#james patrick march #james march #evan peters #jpm #james march x reader #ahs #ahs fanfiction #ahs hotel #american horror story #kai anderson

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taintandviolent · 2 months

Text

Devil's Favours - James March x Reader

summary & wordcount: 4.9K! originally chosen as the party favour for James' Devil's Night celebration, reader is quickly snatched away by James March, who would rather have his own fun with her than let the others kill her.

w a r n i n g s: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! dark fic, dub-con, slight non-con, conflicted reader, sexual confusion, mild gore & blood, graphic descriptions, violence, aggression, bodily fluids, mentions of other real serial killers, smut, rough sex,overstimulation, body worship (reader with greek goddess body type), murder, reader death.

a/n: sorry for this, I'm mentally unwell. not beta read, so if it's horrid and clunky, I'm sorry!!! also, I think this is the last taglist I'll be doing, RIP. It's just such a pain in the rear end, and half the time, it doesn't even work.

full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

After a long day of travelling, sleep was the only thing on your mind. That said, you were in desperate need of a bath, something relaxing. This was, afterall, a vacation. You twisted the ceramic knob on the hot water, and stuck your hand under it. With a hiss, you withdrew your hand – usually, water took a minute to reach temperature. This one? Scalding hot within a few seconds. Dangerously so. You twisted the knob on the cold side, evening them out until they’d reached a less skin-melting combination, and shed your clothes. You’d only been in there for thirty minutes or so before someone began rapping their knuckles against your door. Persistently. Very persistently.

“Just a minute!” you called from the bathroom, hoping your voice travelled. You reached for one of the towels – meticulously embroidered with the hotel’s logo – and wrapped it hurriedly around your torso. “Hang on!”

Quickly rummaging around in your suitcase and swearing under your breath that you had packed more, you searched for something to wear. Feeling pressured and running out of time, you settled on a cream coloured silk slip. Hardly modest with your plenteous figure, but the knocking continued and that seemed more important than decency. You hurried to the door, yanking it open with an air of annoyance. The vexation melted away when you were met with a man who looked more like he belonged on a silver screen than he did standing in front of you.

“Good evening.” He said, dipping his head down in a courteous display.

“…Can I help you?”

His lips stayed together, but curved into a subtle smirk. Though it was an unintentional pick; he’d chosen well; your delectable form was as if it was carved by Gods themselves. The look in your eyes told him that you were so alive, so vivacious that any bloodshed that would happen would be akin to art. His eyes were immediately lost on you, exploring your body and face with a fervid fascination. Feeling exposed, you pulled at the silken straps, bringing the neckline of the nightgown higher up on your body. Your cleavage protested, the fabric puckering across the voluminosity of your breasts.

All this time, he’d been silent, and you arched an expectant brow, wondering just what it was that you were to help him with. This man was… peculiar. From his fancy dressage to the articulate, over-pronounced way he spoke, his idiosyncrasies both alarmed and fascinated you.

“Indeed,” he affirmed. He’d made his decision; you were the one for the night. And he’d have you, whether you came willingly or not.

“My name is James March — I’m the owner of this impressive hotel in which you now stand.” He paused, expectantly as if that was enough for you to throw your arms up and consent to whatever he was asking. When you didn’t, he added: “I need you to come with me. Urgently.”

You squinted, scanning his motivations. A warm, gentle smile stretched across his lips, framed by his pencil thin mustache. His hand rose, fingers uncurling in front of you. There was something unnervingly come-hither about his gaze. Would he have introduced himself with malicious intentions? Surely not — that could lead to identifying him later on. But he could’ve given you a fake name, perhaps…

Unable to resist his passé seduction and against (likely) better judgement, your hand floated up into his, resting delicately against his palm. His fingers closed around yours, lingering a moment before guiding you out of your room, allowing the heavy door to swing shut behind you. He began leading you briskly down the hallway.

“I forgot my key, wait I –”

“Worry not, my dear. We’ll have another made for you, should you need it.”

Should I need it? You thought. Why wouldn’t I need it? Of course I’ll need my key, I’m walking down the hallway in nothing but a nightgown.

You trodded barefoot down the halls, listening to the sounds as you passed them. The hotel, you noticed, creaked and breathed with a life of its own. Whether the rooms were occupied wasn’t known, but they sounded as if they were.

As soon as you two got to a door, only a few down from your own, he reached for the handle and instantly, as soon as he did; something felt wrong. Something felt… sinister and the feeling took over like a gelatinous sludge. You tried to yank your hand away but James sternly jerked you the opposite way — back towards him. With a throaty growl, he wrapped both arms around your torso, holding you fast in a steel grip so that try as you might, you couldn’t dislodge yourself from his grasp. His strength proved too much for your feeble, sleepy muscles.

After shouldering the door open, James carried you inside. In a moment of panicked clarity, you tried to peek around and identify anything you could. The stern way that his hand was plastered on your forehead, holding it against his shoulder, you could really only see the ornate ceiling above you.

You took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that burned at the corners of your eyes. This was it. You’d gone this far in life without being mugged, raped, or killed… today was the day it would change. Your track record would end. Abruptly. Terrifyingly. Your chest shuddered with an uneven, hysterical breath. At least he was handsome. No, shut up. That’s not the kind of thought you want to be thinking.

Suddenly, your body dropped forward and you were spun around harshly, his grip still tight on the fleshy meat of your arms. Then, as though he was a lover and not your soon-to-be-murderer, he eased your back against a wooden chair with one hand, delicately, suddenly concerned with hurting you, like you were some kind of easily-bruised fruit.

“Good girl, sit there.”

At his praising words, your core twinged, tightening. No, no. Stop it. Clenching your teeth, you quashed the thought before it went any further.

His right hand snatched something from a nearby table before holding it proudly, stretching it out for you to see; rope. Unconsciously, your head began shaking back and forth. As the realisation sunk in, your heart rate picked up, thudding against your ribcage.

“N-no, no… no please.”

With the rope still in hand, James got to one knee in a familiar pose. His lightless eyes floated up to yours, staring into them deeply. Now in front of you, his cock twitched within his trousers, a carnal instinct tugging like an incessant child. He brushed the pads of his fingers along the smooth curves of your knees, your calves, your ankles…

Damn. You – obviously – were a woman with needs, so his feather-light touch awoke something deep within your core again. This time though, it didn’t take you reversing the arousal. The shiny tip of his shoe knocked your feet apart, lining them up with the legs of the chair. She clenched harder.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tensely. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He paused to answer, straightening up. “Securing you, my dear. A struggle is inevitable.”

“What!? Inevitable for what?!”

He didn’t answer. Hastily working, his large but nimble hands wrapped the rope around the smallest part of your ankles, knotting the rope against the chair. Your wrists came next, and those were tied much tighter; the fibres of the rope ground against your soft skin, already causing a burning friction.

With a sudden, powerful pull at the bindings, testing their security, James was finished. He was confident in his knotting, you wouldn’t get away. Humming to himself, he dragged the chair through an archway, into another, much larger room. You were facing a table – it was ornately set with a large contraption in the middle. You recognised it as an absinthe fountain, the bright green liquid in the container seemed to glow. You didn’t want to be a part of whatever this was, even as attractive as that man was.

“Please,” you begged. “Please, I just… I want to go back to my room. Let me go.”

“Let you go?” James echoed in a mockingly high tone. He seemed offended that you’d even desire such a thing. It was a pleasure — a privilege — to be invited to his dinners. “No…. You’re staying with me. Right here.”

He pat your thigh before moving to the head of the table. For the first time since you’d been brought in, you took a moment to look around, to take in your surroundings instead of him. Immediately, you whimpered in disbelief — met with such a visual that you almost immediately thought you were hallucinating. You blinked away the tears and sniffed, pressing your lips tightly together.

It was truly bone-chilling to see all of the worst eyes on you. The eyes that had seen the most foul crimes and atrocities in human history were now looking at you; the bound beauty with her sweat-soaked strands of hair stuck to your forehead and fear in your eyes. John Wayne Gacy, Richard Ramirez, Jeffrey Dahmer….

“She’s shakin’ like a god damn leaf!” Aileen Wuornos howled, before finishing off the rest of her beer. She slammed it on the table, the clatter made you jump. She doesn’t want me, you thought. I’m not her enemy. Still, you knew that you’d been sat at a table full of people — true monsters — who even if they didn’t want to kill you, they’d take great pleasure in watching you writhe in agony as the others stole your last breath from your lungs.

Though they were all equally terrifying, you were most horrified by Richard. He sat directly next to James, picking absently at his nails. His sunken, snake eyes followed every move you made; watching you with a hunger that made your skin crawl. Considering the circumstances, it was laughable to say that one made you feel unsafer than the others — but he did. Logically, how he preyed upon women must’ve played into your distaste for him. He held your gaze, peering into your thoughts with a vicious lack of consent, as he behaved with every woman he came in contact with. Finally, he spoke.

“I’ve waited long enough, Jimmy — can we kill her?” He said, sucking something out of his rotting teeth. He made a move as though he was going to get up.

You snapped your head to James, brows knit together in pleading. The visual surprised you. He, like the rest of the dinner party, had been staring at you, but instead of the feral, blood hungry gaze you expected, his eyes had gone glassy. He sucked his cheeks in, deep in thought. Beneath the dark fabric of his dress pants, heat blanketed his groin. You captivated him; the way your precious little eyes flitted back and forth in terror like a deer, the way your pulse thrummed in your neck, beating like a drum. He wanted you for his own — and only his own. Keeping his motives hidden, James stood up, smoothing out the fabric of his suit jacket.

“No,” he crooned. “No, we can’t. I’m afraid I’ve had a change of heart… this one… belongs to me.”

You jerked your head in confusion, while grumbles of disappointment bounced off the walls. Ramirez said something sickening and Gacy let out a horrible, guttural chuckle. You strained against the rope, somehow trying to put more distance between you and them. James sliced his hand through the air to silence them both.

“Miss Wuornos,” he abruptly purred. “Go find us a dashing young man keen to join our party!”

“Ohohoh…. Lil’ ol’ me? Find a man? I’m gonna’ be frolickin’ in the fuckin’ daisy fields with this one. Be back!”

“Pl-please.” You begged. Your lips parted, allowing desperate promises to fall from between them. You wouldn’t tell anyone, you’d never come back here, you wouldn’t remember anything, you promised, you would never speak a word of this to anyone… You looked to James, who regarded you affectionately, but patronisingly, his lower lip jutted out in a faux-pout. He’d heard all this before, and it was of no concern to him. He’d made up his mind. It was his god damned birthday and he was going to have you all to himself.

Your begging fell on seemingly deaf ears, nobody bothered to entertain you. Your teary, burning eyes flitted to Ramirez, who was smiling his ugly, decaying smile at you, leaning forward in his seat. “I dunno’, she promises, Jimmy… maybe we should let her go.”

You shivered, grinding your wrists against the rope. Anger blanketed you. “Fuck off, weirdo.”

“Who you callin’ weirdo, bitch?”

“YOU!” You barked, straining. “I can smell your rancid breath from here. Had to kill all those women just because none of them would ever come within ten fucking feet of you!”

“Now, now… manners. She’s a lively one, isn’t she?” His mouth bent in a proud smirk, James looked to Richard, who was still bristling from the comment. He really wanted to kill you. Delighted at the fact that James had seemingly given you immunity, you wiggled happily in your chair, fighting the urge to stick your tongue out. You didn’t want to test him, though, and so you remained silent, watching instead.

Silence was broken as the door opened. With a little thrashing, almost as desperate as your own had been, Aileen shoved a man — couldn’t have been more than 30 — inside. It didn’t take her long to find someone. In fact, it was like she opened the door, spotted him meandering by and dragged him back inside.

The guy noticed you first. Second, he noticed that you were tied to the chair so tightly that red marks on your wrists and ankles had begun to develop. Thirdly, he noticed the others, his eyes drifting slowly and visibly disturbed by who sat at the table.

“Woah… what the fuck is this?” He asked.

“A good fuckin’ time is what it is.” One of them said. You didn’t care which. Blisteringly hot tears streamed down your face, stinging your cheeks. What were the stages of grief? You felt like you were cycling through them in rapid succession.

“Fucking let me go!” You howled, thrashing your torso back and forth, which did little to relieve anything. With a distressed expression plastered upon his face, the guy looked from you to the other guests and back, before nervously putting his hands up, taking one step back towards the door. “Hey, is she okay?”

“N—!“ James was suddenly behind you, cupping his hand over your mouth, pressing the tips of his fingers hard into your cheek flesh. His lips moved quickly, whispering hotly into your ear. “Hush now, don’t spoil the surprise for him. Let him find out on his own.”

“She’s fine, the hors d’oeuvres didn’t agree with her.” Aileen barked, towing the guy towards the table. She shoved him down into the only unoccupied seat.

“Dinner… is served.” James said.

In unison, they all stood up. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor echoed in your head. Like syncronised swimmers, they all descended upon him, armed with whatever weapon they’d chosen. You hadn’t known the guy, but he had enough sympathy for you to make you cry at what was happening to him. He’d had a life, family… feelings. None of which mattered to him anymore, or perhaps that’s exactly what he was thinking about. Perhaps your entire life really did flash before your eyes before you died.

You let out a scream that burned on its way out. It ached and tore and ripped its way up your windpipe as the shrill, bloodcurdling sound filled the room. It was louder than his, and louder than the sounds that were currently coming from the gaping, gargling hole in his throat.

Gacy moved from his side, allowing you a brief glimpse. Torn flesh hung from his shoulders and blood had almost completely covered the front of his body. You closed your eyes and turned your head away, rolling your lips inward and biting down. It was fucked up, and you weren't going to absorb any more of it.

“Sweet dreams, my little pet.” James said, in front of you. You turned your head towards the sound, but were met with blackness.

A dull throbbing on the side of your head was what eventually pulled you awake, forcing your cinder-block weighted lids to peel apart. You looked around; an odd, minimally decorated room. Dark. Your head wobbled as you turned it left, then right, met with the same visual — your arms suspended high above your head, and rope again, at your wrists. You licked your lips and tasted metal. In your blurred vision, you noticed red flecked along your breasts. The ache on the side of your head was more than just an ache, it seemed.

Your consciousness ebbed, fading in and out. Sleep was comforting, the idea of it cradling you in its arms like a baby. You wanted so badly to sleep… just for a moment. Somewhere inside, you heard authoritative voices, advising against sleep. Concussions… sleep… sleep is bad… keep the individual conscious. And so you fought against the cool, towering shadow, turning your head away from nothing in particular. You couldn’t hear anything outside of your own laboured breathing, and the creak of the rope every time you decided to move. Nothing. Not even the muted voices of the monsters.

Time meant nothing, you lost track of how long you’d been hanging there when you’d finally heard the creak of a heavy door. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly before wrenching them open. You weren’t sure if the crushing weight you felt was the looming weight of death as it shrouded you, or merely the physical strain of your body being suspended for hours. You knew people could eventually die from suspension. Their lungs caved in or something. The tips of your toes barely touched the floor, your big toe grazing the cold, concrete floor every time your body swayed softly.

With your head hanging between your shoulders, your muscles quivered as you lifted it, just in time to see the door in front of you shut. James, standing in front of it, reached for a black leather apron that hung on a hook. Before slipping it over his head, he flashed you a charming smile, pleased to see that you hadn’t expired yet. Reaching behind him to tie it around his waist, he approached you. The light from the wall sconces reflected against the fabric dully.

“Ah, there you are.” He crooned.

You intended a scream, but could do nothing but whimper. You swallowed repeatedly, a feeble attempt to wet your dried out throat. James drug a single finger along your soft jawline, trailing it down your neck, and along your collarbone. You were drenched in sweat, streaks of it descending your face and neck.

The sudden ferocity in which he gripped your face made it sting, his thumb and forefinger digging into the bone of your jaw. He quirked a brow. You opened your mouth and although your throat was already raw, you finally screamed. You screamed again, angrily, and held his cold, black gaze. Your ragged shrieks filled the room over and over again as you tried, desperately, to wrench your hands free from the ropes.

Regrettable, James thought as his soulless eyes hungrily took in your form as it quivered and thrashed around. You were built like a Greek goddess, soft curves in all the right places, begging to be touched, worshipped.

“Aaaah,” He exhaled, frustratedly. “You’re almost too pretty to kill.”

“Then — DON’T! Fucking let me GO! AaaarhhhH!” You yanked at the ropes again, thrashing around until a deep pain in your shoulder began to burn. You cried out, letting your body go slack.

With a deep breath, you mustered up all your strength again, finding every drop of it within your tired body, and leaned forward to scream directly in his face. The result? He was wholly unphased by your screams. If anything, it seemed like he enjoyed them. Each one sounded a little more desperate than the last, and it only fuelled him further.

You decide to try a new, last-ditch tactic. Sore mouth contorting into a scowl, you gathered a mouthful of saliva and blood, hot and irony on your tongue and lunged forward, spitting it at him. The glob hit him square in the face, dripping slowly down towards his jaw.

“What, is it hard to focus?” You croaked. Your words were slurred, messy with the pain of the head wound. “Didn’t think you’d want to fuck me as bad as you do, huh?”

James’ dark eyes narrowed, the muscles underneath twitching faintly. He had in fact picked you, and therefore had to accept all of your fiery little quips as they came – but that one… that one had caught him off guard.

“You…” You narrowed your eyes, the fibres of the rope squeaking as you leaned towards him, your lips inches from his face. “…want to fuck me so bad, you can’t think. Look at you. You think your apron hides it?”

With brows raised, James glanced at his groin. Had he really been betrayed by his own body, so early on? Though he felt the warmth and stiffness increasing between his legs, there was no visual indication. James calmly brought his hand to his face, collecting the bloodied spit on his fingertips. With a reticent gaze, he brought them down between your legs, harshly knuckling the nightgown out of the way.

He smeared them roughly on your cunt. Your own fluids. The ones that you had just spit at him. Not only that, but he proceeded to tease your sensitive nerves with his fingers, pulling a confused gasp from your throat. Part of you had been bluffing, you weren’t entirely sure that he had wanted you —

James pulled back an inch to look at you again. Aside from your luscious body, your complexion was mottled with exhaustion, lips dry with fear, hair frazzled and bloody on one side. To him, it was a horrific sculpture of divinity. One that he had created in such little time with such little effort. The perfect, ample curves of your breasts were dotted with crimson, having dripped from the gash on your head. They jiggled delicately with each desolate shake you gave.

With his free hand, he took hold of your round, plush hips, his thumb working the softness like dough. He swung you towards him, pressing the pillowy tops of your thighs to his groin. Quickly, he identified a growing obsession with your body.

He loved it. All of it. In fact, he hadn’t seen a body as marvellously breathtaking as yours since his wife’s. Of course, it had been many years since he’d seen hers in any such manner, so the flames that licked at his desire were deprived, hungry ones. His mouth found yours, lips crushing against yours. His tongue, hot and strong, slipped in and beckoned yours to engage in an erotic dance.

He pulled your body closer, pressing it tightly against his. Though constricted by his trousers, you felt the bulging heat beneath his apron, and rubbed your thigh against it, teasing him. He groaned deeply in response, bucking his hips against you to force friction. After a few moments, James broke the kiss, panting heavily over your tender, swollen lips.

“Pl-please… don’t kill me… please…”

The back of his hand whipped across your mouth, hitting you so hard that the world sparkled when you opened your eyes again. Your face burned with the contact.

“Enough of that now! Say it again, and I’ll do just that!”

The harshness in his voice stunned you. Up until that point, he’d been using his syrupy, serenading voice — the one he had used to charm you into coming with him. Now, he bellowed, an unexpected violence. Silence hung heavy between you as he waited, baited you to beg for life once more. You didn’t speak again, but your sobs continued.

Finally, his hand dropped between your legs again. Your clit ached, burned with the way his fingers fondled it, but he didn’t stop. Your poor, exhausted body trembled beneath his touch, doing all it could to express arousal. Salty droplets streamed from your hairline into your eyes, stinging as they absorbed.

“Would you rather die?” he asked, suddenly.

“Wh-what? N-no… I d-don’t want to die…”

“That’s not what I meant, my little ember. I meant… would you rather die than be pleasured? I, of course, can arrange that.”

You hesitated a moment, but finally, shook your head.

At this thoughtful confession, James angled forward, plunging a single finger inside of you, past the knuckle. The digit wiggled inside of you briefly, before sliding back out slowly. He held it up for you both to see. “Oh,” he growled.

His finger was generously coated in clear slick. Your body had betrayed you.

Wordlessly, he untied the apron, tossing it carelessly to the side – it hit the floor with a heavy flop. Then, those same nimble fingers began unbuttoning and unzipping, until they gripped his rigidness, pumping it slowly for further stimulation. His chest heaved with wanton, desiring breaths as he stared at you, hanging there, with your warm, ample body for his taking. James lined his dick up with your leaking slit, and pulled you harshly onto his cock, showing no mercy for how exhausted your body was.

Your cunt swallowed his cock whole, hungrily and desperately. His head fell back between his shoulders, a throaty groan coming from his open mouth. He began thrusting, slow at first. The ease of thrusting fascinated him; your body hung limp on the ropes and all James had to do was tug you forward, tug you in the direction he wanted you to go.

“You know, I’ve never taken a woman like this before - suspended in the air,” he said, breathily. “Exquisite.”

You mewled in response, snot dripping from your nose.

Soon, the room was filled with wet, slick thrusting and the thudding sound of his torso as it met yours. You came repeatedly, coating his thick, pale cock in fluids you didn’t even know your body could make. At one point, during a particularly vicious thrusting, a warm, watery liquid splashed down over your thighs. You screamed like he was killing you, though he felt better than any man you’d ever been with, pleasuring you in ways that left you feeling breathless.

Still, your body persisted with its aches. So far, you’d been successful in appealing to his sexual nature, and decided to try again.

“….please…. Let me down… I’ll… d-do anything you wa—

Suddenly, he backed up, pulling the head from your cunt with a slick pop. You panted; fragile, pitiful breaths, barely enough energy to lift your gaze. With his rigid cock bouncing in front of him, James untied your hands, allowing your heavy, enervated body to fall into his arms. You couldn’t help but cry into his shoulder as he carried you to some sort of surface, laying you carefully down atop it. Some streak of mercy had captured him, and you mouthed words of gratitude. Your entire body buzzed with relief, your muscles aching in a funny, tingling way.

James wasted no time in fucking you again; the tip was nearly scarlet, hungry for release. His hand compressed on your soft stomach, pressing down into it to increase the pressure of his cock as it drove deeper and deeper inside of you.

“You know how this ends, my dear.” When he spoke, it sounded far away. But you did. You knew. There was never any end to this besides the one that you’d envisioned fearfully. He leaned to the side, retrieving a small, but very, very sharp blade from a nearby metal table. You watched numbly as James lifted the knife above your neck.

His hips pumped rhythmically, bringing you both closer to the fiery edge of ecstasy. Pulsing veins massaging your silklike insides, and another orgasm galloped towards you. Your body quivered, cold sweats taking over.

James whipped the knife across your perfectly warm neck, and instinctively, your hands went to the laceration. Bright crimson gushed out from the spaces between your fingers, and you felt a gushy warmth press against your digits. The inner workings of your throat, you realized. The gore of your own body, pressing back against you in its heat. James laid one hand over yours, seemingly just to feel the blood as it spurted. With a deep, guttural moan, his cock twitched inside you just before it released, coating your insides.

She gasped, a wet gurgle. The light left her eyes, gradually, but beautifully. The pulses of blood eventually ebbed to a dull trickle. As his thrusts slowed, he expelled a long sigh – killing both excited him and depressed him. On one hand; it brought exhilaration, delight and sheer unadulterated arousal. On the other however, you only truly got to do it once. Certainly, you could kill a ghost a million times over, but the effect wasn’t the same.

For a moment, James’ expression contorted into one of regret; when you returned in your new spectral form, you’d likely not want to spend time with him. Yet another woman who loathed his presence roaming the hallways, avoiding him. But perhaps, he still wouldn’t mind having you stuck with him for all eternity, if only to gaze upon your perfect form whenever you’d let him. With matching wounds, at that. A true romantic.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur / @feefymo / @evpeters87 / @lacucarachapisser / @stveharringtn / @fear-is-truth

#fuck it we ball #James Patrick March #James Patrick March x you #James Patrick March x reader #james march x reader #ahs smut #ahs fanfiction #AHS Hotel #American Horror Story Hotel #myfics

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luuuuucyscorner · 9 days

Text

𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞- 𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐧

Info: a movie night with Tate turns into something more

Tags: 18+ (MINORS DNI), making out, Dom!Tate, fingering, dirty talk, swearing

word count: 5184

It started innocently enough, movie night at Y/n 's place. She lit candles and threw fuzzy blankets across the back of the couch, and of course, made sure to gather Tate's favorite snacks. She waited expectantly, flipping through the movies she had on hand as the doorbell rang. It was Tate, standing outside patiently with a small smile on his face.

She ushered him inside, locking the door behind them as she guided him towards the living room. They both got comfortable, her legs draped over his lap as she turned on a random movie she thought he'd enjoy. Midway through the film, she swore she could feel a hand sliding up her thighs, his fingers squeezing her skin affectionately.

She thought nothing of it, he was always handsy with her, always needed to be touching her in some way. But she second guessed herself when his fingers began slipping beneath the hem of her skirt.

"baby?" she asks in a whisper, a questioning tone creeping into her voice.

His gaze flickered downwards, catching sight of his hand resting on her thigh before lifting back up to meet hers. "Just making sure you're still here," he murmured, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. His thumb brushed against the sensitive skin just above the edge of her panties, eliciting a shiver from her. "And you smell so good...like strawberries."

He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "You know, we could always stop watching this movie..." Y/n finds herself shifting in her seat, moving ever so slightly onto his lap.

As she shifted, his hand moved further up her leg, his fingertips brushing softly against the fabric of her underwear. He couldn't help but let out a low chuckle, his grin widening at her innocent response.

"You're so easy, Y/n," he teased, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair away from her face. "But I'm glad you're mine." His lips quirked upwards as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her cheek. "I promise, once this movie's done, I'll make it worth your while."

A thrill of anticipation ran through Y/n as she bit her lip, trying hard to keep her composure. She knew that Tate was trouble, she had been told so by almost everyone at their school, but sometimes... sometimes she couldn't help but crave the chaos he brought with him.

"what if my parents come home?" she asks, looking up at him worriedly.

"Don't worry about them," Tate reassured, his thumb continuing to trace circles along the edge of your panties. "They won't interrupt our little movie night." A wicked glint entered his eyes, daring to imagine what would happen if they did. "Besides," he added, leaning in closer so that his mouth was almost touching her earlobe, "if they do show up...well, I'm sure they'd understand."

He squeezed her thigh gently, letting out a soft groan as you squirmed underneath his touch. "Now, concentrate on the screen, babe. Pretend like nothing's happening down here."

Y/n turns her attention back to the movie but it falls on dull ears as Tate begins to trace figure eights on her puffy clit, making it increasingly difficult to focus.

"That's a good girl," Tate whispered, his voice low and sultry as he continued drawing lazy circles around her most sensitive spot. He felt her tremble beneath him, letting out mewls and whimpers, her attempts at focusing on the movie futile against his expert touch.

"You're so wet for me already. Can't wait to feel my cock inside you?" He nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply before adding, "I bet you taste sweet too."

His fingers slipped beneath her panties, stroking her bare flesh with deliberate intent. Her moans grew louder, barely muffled by the blanket draped over them. He grinned, knowing full well that she was struggling not to scream out in pleasure.

"Just think about how good it's gonna feel when I fuck you later," he purred, his voice thick with lust. "Imagine those pretty lips wrapped around my dick...or maybe taking it all in your tight little pussy."

"god tate, please" she moaned out, letting her head fall back against his shoulder and shifting on his lap.

"Oh, I love hearing you like that," Tate breathed, his hand continuing to tease her needy flesh. "So fucking responsive...it's like you were made for me." He chuckled darkly, his grip tightening on her thigh as he pressed himself harder against her.

Y/n tried to stifle her moans, but the pleasure was becoming too intense to ignore. She found herself arching her back, pushing her chest forward in desperation for relief. "Please...Tate...I need..." she gasped, trailing off as his fingers slipped deeper into her folds.

"What? What do you need?" he taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Tell me, Y/n...you know you want it. Don't be shy."

His touch became more urgent, his fingers plunging in and out of her with increasing intensity. "Take me," he demanded, his breath ragged. "Use me...make me yours."

With a sudden movement, he rolled her over, pinning her to the couch beneath his weight. His lips crushed down on hers, silencing any protests she might have had left. As he ground himself against her, she realized with a sinking feeling that she was completely lost in his web...

And she didn't want to escape anytime soon.

#evan peters #james patrick march #tate langdon #ahs hotel #ahs murder house #american horror story #kai anderson #kyle spencer #ahs cult #tate langdon smut #tate langon x reader #smut #fanfiction #evan peters smut #luuuuucyscorner

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babygorewhore · 8 months

Text

Act of Contrition

James Patrick March x Virgin! Reader.

Inspired by a post by @ahsjpm

On Halloween night, you’re alone as James is participating in Devils night. As a Christian, you’re often modest and found in prayer. But James habits inspire you to engage in your deepest fantasies.

WARNINGS! Porn with little plot. Virgin! Reader. Violence! Murder! Oral! Male and female recieving! Bondage! Light degrading! Dom! Reader. Sub! James. Brief PnV! Use of religion disrespectfully lol.

Your fingers were locked together as your nostrils inhaled the warm meal in front of you. Your prayers typically were kept short during dinner time, as you were eager to dive in but tonight you needed the strength. It was Halloween. You opened your eyes, resisting the urge to scratch at your lash line. You didn’t want to ruin your makeup.

“You still pray? Honey, you’re sleeping with a ghost. If there’s a God, I think he forgot about this place.” Sally taunted you.

Your partner, James Patrick March wasn’t with you tonight. Opting you to sit at one of the tables in the main lobby of the Cortez. The spirits of this building kept you company whenever James was away and they were the only company he somewhat trusted with you. Tonight was the infamous Devils night along with the celebration of the holiday.

You hadn’t been with James very long. Sally was incorrect on your intimate status with him but you didn’t dare correct her. James explained that the ghosts of past murderers dined with him on this occasion and frankly, you were too afraid to participate.

He chastised you only briefly before he understood. It was something you cherished about him. He tried his best to accommodate your apprehensions. You toyed with the fork after you took a bite. You almost ordered a alcohol beverage but often you and James would enjoy a night cap.

You dressed up. It was primarily a joke since your modest dressing drew criticism from others. Knee high fishnet stockings up your thicker thighs, wider than a majority of women. A black hip length coat, a low cut white shirt that accentuated your full breasts. A wide black cross in the center. Your hair was styled last minute. Your makeup was dark and sultry as you gingerly tried to eat without smudging your lipstick.

Your high heels clicked together as you shifted in your chair.

“Sally, be easy on the girl. Let her enjoy her faith in peace.” Liz interjected but you knew she was joking. They sat adjacent to you. You didn’t blame them for mocking your beliefs given their current states as ghosts but James never ridiculed you.

Before sleeping, you lowered yourself to your knees and prayed for the safety of yourself and your family. The first night when James saw you, you expected him to laugh but instead, he gave you a warm smile and said, “I’ll give you a moment of privacy, my dear.”

A sensation of tugging brought your attention back to the present. You looked up, Sally was toying with the chain of your wrap around cross bracelet. Her dark lipstick was smudged from drinking but she gave you a quick smile anyway. She pulled out her phone, her lifeline. “Do you mind?”

You were camera shy by nature but Sally had few pleasures. You nodded. “Yes. Do you want to take a picture of my bracelet or my whole costume?”

“Your whole outfit. Everyone will want to see a slutty nun.” You huffed but obliged.

You modeled for her and she finally broke out into a pleased grin. She stepped away from you, typing away and you smooth your shirt. You weren’t hungry anymore, too preoccupied with James activity. Could you do it? Bypass your fears and join him? You missed him and his affectionate gestures.

You straightened your shoulders with a resolution. “Don’t worry about your plate, I’ll get it.” Your head snapped towards Liz’s direction. As if she was reading your mind.

You could do this. You could be brave. James wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. And you could run quickly if you needed.

The hallways felt closed in, daunting like a countdown as you trailed toward James room. You quieted your breathing to somehow conceal your vulnerability. With the dimmed lights, it was difficult to keep steady in your heels as you narrowed in towards his door. Your hand wrapped around the handle, a quiet noise of scraping came as your bracelet scratched the gold.

Pushing the door, you blinked as the brighter light peeked at you as you stepped inside.

You opened your mouth to greet James but you froze. Several other men were at the table but they weren’t sitting. Instead, they stood and started cheering. Wildly clapping and chanting, “Ten commandments killer!” Your hand went to your mouth.

James held a man by his hair with one hand and his other continuously rammed his long blade all over his torso. His knife plunged deep and with purpose. Your teeth chattered as he yanked it free and slit it across his throat. Blood coated his hands, danced on his normally immaculate suit and even splattered on his face. His smile was wicked and he started to laugh. Proudly and heartily from his chest.

“James,” You whispered in fear. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard but somehow another presence caught his attention and he met your terrorized stare.

James smile immediately dropped and he released his victim. “Darling-“ He tried to speak in a alarmingly gentle tone in contrast to his animalistic action.

You spun around on your heels and ran out. You didn’t take off your shoes so you couldn’t sprint but the surrounding rooms blurred together. Across the hallway was a balcony and you cling to the rails. Your fingers tighten around the white bars and you pant. He slaughtered again. Brutally. Your bravery was misplaced. You should have stayed downstairs.

But this small moment of terror could never erase your feelings for him.

You closed the bedroom door behind you after an hour passed. You pressed your back against the wood. You needed the time to think. Consider how to approach James with your feelings. You prayed. Begged God to give you clarity and strength. Sitting on the bed, you contemplated taking off your costume, Halloween was nearly over now. You weren’t in the mood to go out and celebrate. You didn’t want to be without him.

But he lied to you. He promised he wouldn’t hurt anyone again.

He needs to endure the consequences.

Standing, you intended to go the bathroom and wash off your makeup when a voice caught your attention.

“Y/n, my love.” James’s eyes were glazed over with regret as you faced him.

He engulfed your hands and pulled you close to him. His lips pressed against your neck with urgency, “Darling, you weren’t supposed to see this. I know you disapprove.” You stepped away from him and set your mouth.

“James. I just wanted to be with you tonight. But you insist on traditions. Of course I want to honor this but to walk in on such a thing, it’s madness.” You went to step away from him but he rushed around. Gripping your shoulders.

“My dear, I can’t be in ill standing with you. Tell me what I can do. Tell me how to earn your forgiveness.” You shook your head, crossing your arms but something…tightened in you. At the account of his pleas.

James Patrick March wasn’t one to ask for forgiveness. He didn’t show remorse. And he never showed a shred of submission. Being a partner to a ghost wasn’t morally clear according to Christianity. You couldn’t hold him to the same standards as a human. In his past, he was a killer. Despite his promises that he grew tired of murder, you couldn’t remove the gleeful grin across his face as he slashed a man’s throat from your mind.

James enjoyed the applause. It seemed to drive him. Attention. Praise. Devotion. You always knew once you gave into him, that he would pry every ounce of worship from you.

You would offer it. Without a single thought of resistance.

He lowered himself down, fingers ghosting over your clothes as he settled on his knees before you. His wide palms cupped your thighs and his black gaze torturously raked over your stockings. “You look irresistible, my little mouse. Powerful. Whatever you want, I’ll do it. I am your slave, y/n. Take me however you wish.”

Your bracelet covered hand cupped his cheek, stroking his skin with your thumb. A darkness clouded you, deep and hungry urges clawed inside you like a disease. You couldn’t resist anymore. He willing to abide every command.

Fuck it.

“James, you need to cleanse your conscience. Confess to me. Tell me how wrong it was.” You lifted your chin and his brows raised. A sign of hope.

“This is a religious practice, yes? Do you want me to pray, my love? I will for you.”

“Tell me how bad you were. How could you disobey me?” Your voice was lower, husky and it caused him to shiver.

“I shouldn’t have. I-I don’t want you to be cross with me. My only desire is to see you happy. Perhaps I became too carried away. Determined to gain the respect of my fellow man.”

“You wanted their attention. You enjoyed that man bleeding in front of you. Oh, James. That’s so sad…how pathetic could you be?” His hands clung to your hips.

“Yes, pathetic-“ You clutched his chin in your hand, hard enough that his eyes widened.

“Beg. Beg God for forgiveness. If you really meant what you said about making me happy.”

He was resisting inwardly, you knew that. But you counted on his love for you to override it. He tilted his head down and started whispering.

“Dear Heavenly Father, I come to you-“ You stepped out of his embrace and you released him.

“I said pray to God, James. That’s not correct.” James stumbled and tried to grab your arm.

“I’m doing what you asked.”

“I am your God.”

The silence echoed after your direction but James appeared to be stunned. His breathing was heavier as he slowly scanned your heels, legs, stomach and now your breasts. “Darling, if you make me scream your name, would that count as praying?” He asked with a growing smirk.

You beckoned him with a finger. “Crawl to me, James. Show me how repentant you are.” He was fast to oblige. His large hands held his weight as he moved and he settled on the back of his calves when he reached you.

James touched his palms together, staring up at you. “Please forgive me, y/n. I beg you. I promise I’ll listen. I promise I will never disobey you. And I promise I will get on my knees everyday if you allow me to touch you.”

Your mouth curved in a satisfied smile. “Was that so hard? But I’m afraid this is just the beginning. I want you to go to the bed.”

He practically jumped to his feet and prowled to the bed. You trailed after him, flicking the cross between your fingers as a thrill ignited in your bones. It was obscene to use Gods name in vain like this. To pretend you were the highest power. But it was too delicious to see such a dark man beg and not give into your temptation. You would just have to go to church more often after tonight.

You took ahold of his suspenders and yanked him close. Chest to chest. “You’ll do anything?” You proposed.

“Of course, kitten. I could never disobey my God.”

You smashed your lips against his, not giving a shit about your lipstick. Your arms encircled his broad shoulders and his hands captured your middle, hips and then they cupped your ass. He moaned as you bit his lower lip and pulled. His tongue swept your mouth and you met it with your own. He lifted you by your thighs, his strength evident by the way he made your curvy body feel weightless.

He fell back on the bed and you straddled him. James ripped away from the kiss, red product smeared on his mouth. He latched onto your skirt, hiking it over your thighs and his fingers brushed against the growing wet spot of your underwear. You swallowed and shook your head. Normally, you were too insecure to entertain this. A part of you wanted to run away and hide. But you pushed back those thoughts and wildly took off your underwear.

As if reading your mind, James assisted in sliding you higher until you were above his face. Tearing off your jacket, James shoved you down, his tongue licking a stripe. You nearly screamed at the foreign contact. He circled your clit before laying his tongue flat. Your hands braced on his chest as you rolled your pelvis against the pace of his mouth. His lips suckled your clit and he gently let his teeth give it a tug.

He moaned, a pretty sound that you needed more of. “Fuck,” he said in-between lapping your pussy. He didn’t swear often so you knew this was a special occasion. You continued humping his face as a rush of heat flushed your face and your entrance tightened. You were close.

He started to shift, “I need you underneath me. I need to feel you cum while I’m fucking you.”

You maneuvered yourself down enough so he could talk as you gripped his jaw. “Good boys take what I give them. If you’re not, I’ll have to walk away-“ you didn’t finish as James jerked you back into place. Getting the point.

He dipped his tongue inside before it resumed working over the sensitive bud in the center and you stilled as you reached your peak. You shook as you chased your high. You moved off of his face and his chin was wet but he didn’t wipe it off. “Darling, you are ravishing. I could spend an eternity between your legs if you allowed me.”

A lightening burst of bravery surged you onto your own knees. Your heels giving you a modest boost as you practically ripped off James trousers and threw them across the room. Pausing, your eyes took in his raised dick in the confines of his boxers. He supported himself on his elbows as you licked your lips.

“If you behave yourself, then maybe I’ll let you fuck me. Don’t cum unless I say you can.”

You pulled down his underwear, feeling the heat rise from him as his swollen, heavy cock hung as it leaked precum. You were intimidated by his size but you refused to let him see fear.

Sticking out your tongue, you licked his tip before going along the side. James grunted as you wrapped your hand around the base, taking it into your mouth. He shuddered as you bobbed your head up and down as you went further, pumping him at the same time.

“That’s-thats not fair, mouse-“ He whispered harshly and you tried not to smirk.

He started thrusted into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat but you breathed through your nose to keep from gagging. Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked faster and he clenched his fists.

“Y/n, please. I’m going to cum-this is-“ You shook your head causing James’s head to jerk back.

A creamy liquid shot down in your mouth and you removed yourself. He chanted your name and God as you watched with a quirked eyebrow.

James lifted up, “Y/n. Surely you know that I was never going to win that game. Please, allow me to take you. I promise I will-“

“Another promise, James? I meant what I said. Now, I’m going to have to punish you.” Standing, you grabbed his belt and wrestled his arms down, pinning his wrists together. You bound them tightly and gently smacked his face. “You’re not allowed to touch me. If you break free, I’ll leave you here. Do you understand?”

James moved his head in a short nod.

“Do you understand, James? Is that anyway to answer me?” You taunted.

“Yes, I understand.” He ground through his teeth. You knew the submission was killing him

You balanced on your knees before grabbing his dick. You lined it up with your pussy and sank down. James whimpered, actually whimpered and you groaned from pleasure. And a small stretch of pain. You felt full but the hilt of his pelvis hit your clit.

You rocked your hips, your eyes fighting to stay open from James meeting your pace. His hands, despite being tied, attempted to touch you.

“James. I told you to keep your hands down.” You scolded with a half serious tone. James was looking at you with fuck me eyes as you used him.

You lifted off him, taking your discarded coat and wiping your inner thighs.

“Darling, I’m sorry. No, please. Please allow me to make you finish. My pet, I don’t know what’s gotten ahold of me. I don’t know why I can’t seem to listen-“

“Who said I was done with you?” You questioned and his mouth fell. You had reached for his cane. Holding it across your body, you unsheathed the hidden knife. It was still covered in blood. Half naked, you still had your heels on.

“James. I suggest you start praying again.”

Taglist. @icannot3 @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @alittlesil @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @randodummy @evanptrss @hyperharlz @howtobesasha

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nyrasbloodyclover · 11 months

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ok so hear me out...

#ahs cult #tate ahs #james patrick march #ahs hotel #kai anderson fanfic #kai anderson fanfiction #kit walker #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson #james march x reader #james patrick march x reader #american horror story #american horror story fanfic #ahs #ahs fanfic #anna karenina #alexei vronsky

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lanawintersenthusiast · 4 months

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AWOOGA 😻

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shescallinmedaddy · 1 year

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too much.

kit walker x f!reader .

warnings - smut, dirty talk, cursing, cunnilingus, fingering, lmk if im missing any.

wanna write something inspired off the first scene with him and alma??? i had to get something out for my baby daddy. but send in some requests cause writers block.

word count - 684 .

it was as if kit couldn’t get your clothes off fast enough once he returned home, barely even getting out a hello before his lips were on yours. his sense of urgency seeming to leave once his palms were finally on your bare skin. while at first they rub up and down your waist, they soon still opting to back you up into the dining room table. kits lips separate from yours before his palms trail to the back of your thighs before lifting you onto said dining room table, and gently pressing your back onto the cool wooden surface. spreading your legs, and slotting himself in between them he just looks down adoringly at you as his hands begin to explore your body as if there’s an inch he hasn’t explored yet.

“you’re fucking gorgeous, darlin’.” kit mutters, before his lips meet your again,

his lips are soon trailing to your jaw, before leaving marks for him to admire later on your neck. and while he’d love to tease you longer as he usually does, he finds his sense of urgency returning once again. so his lips trail lower and lower, skipping where you need him most and instead littering your thighs in kisses and marks. soon his breath is fanning over you clit, while he looks up at you with a lustful eyes, and bites his lip.

“stop teasing, kit” you complain and pout to him.

“oh darlin’, don't worry,” he starts, laying a kiss to your clit, “you’ll be begging me to stop.”

once the words leave his lips, he’s licking a bold stripe from your hole to your clit with a moan leaving his mouth before diving in like a man starved. lapping at the juices your cunt offered him as if it was some sort of refreshment. you find your fingers tangling into his hair at the pleasure his tongue gives you, and the tug you give makes kit release a groan which vibrates through you making the pleasure of his tongue all that much better. you tugging at kits hair also does nothing but egg him on.

his lips soon wrapping around your clit, and his fingers prodding at your entrance. he gently eases his two fingers into your cunt, until finally slipping them all the way into you. at the way your thighs try to tighten around his head and his wrist, he uses his free hand to give his wrist just enough space to thrust into your cunt.

his fingers plunging into your cunt and his tongue lapping at your clit making you a panting moaning mess, making kit nothing less than euphoric as he can feel the damp spot in his boxers worsening. you cant help but huck your hips to get more, more of his mouth, more of his fingers, more of him. you thighs once again threatening to close around his head, he adjust his wrists so he can still thrust his fingers into you and feel your plush thighs around his head.

“fuck, feels so good, k-kit” you stutter out, yanking at his hair.

kit can't help but speed up had ministrations at your confession, and with his free hand no longer keeping your thighs spread, he begins to palm himself through his work jumper. his fingers curling in to you to hit the perfect spot, his tongue lapping at your clit with some sort of need, nearly pushing you over the edge.

“gonna cum for me, darlin’?” kit questions seductively, immediately returning to his prior actions.

you feel your thighs tightening even more, and your back arching off the table at the question before you’re giving him exactly what he wants with a string of curses leaving your lips. but even once you do, his fingers don't slow and neither does his tongue, and you find yourself yanking at his scalp at the overstimulation.

“s’too much b-baby” you finally manage to get out, trying to push him away from you.

at first he just shakes his head from between your thighs before muttering, “baby, you’re gonna take whatever i give you.”

a/n : i kinda hate this but idk lmk what you think

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not-alien-girl-v · 1 year

Note

I would die if you wrote something about James being embarrassed for having a cold in front of the reader. I imagine how much James would cringe when he sees other sick people, and I can certainly imagine him wanting to die again if he accidentally sneezes whilst trying to hold it in. AND IF THIS MAN SEES YOU TRYNA FUSS OVER HIM, OH HELL NAH HE’S GONNA FEEL GUILTY ASF😭😭

Warning: mentions of germs and sickness and general grossness

Note: i’m writing this in our current 2022, the post-covid world which felt a little icky so beware of that. i kind of made him babygirl in this so for that i apologize but james not being babygirl makes no sense to me

Flu season. It comes around every year, infesting the hotel lobby with germs. Germs germs germs, the dirty kind, the kind that make you sick, the icky, gross kind of sick where you can’t breathe and nose is all runny.

Despite being deceased for nearly a century (97 years, but who’s counting?), James still had a body in death, though he can’t die again, nothing can happen to his soul, he can still catch certain pesky illnesses. He had survived the Spanish Influenza in 1918, he had nearly gotten COVID-19 in 2020, and since then he has learned his lesson: beware of the sick, and wear a mask amongst the masses.

Since he knew of this simple solution to avoid sickness, he found there to be little to no excuse for catching a virus, especially in this day and age, with all of the vaccines and boosters and recommendations from the CDC, you’d have to be an idiot to still be sick.

He’d walk through the lobby of his hotel, past the bars, hearing the infected cough and wheeze, and he’d grimace in disgust at them. The least they could do was take their illness to their own homes.

That was until this morning, when he noticed a slight tickle in his throat that no amount of whiskey could satisfy. Strange, that liquor usually fixed all of his problems as quick as they came.

He was a man, he was certain, and a real one at that, which meant he was not to act childish over a small tickle in his throat. He had things to do, places to be and plenty of people to order around in a day that just couldn’t wait. But soon, that tickle turned to a cough that he couldn’t contain in him.

With each word he spoke, the threat of him coughing hung loosely in his throat, his lungs seemed to inflate at half mass, leaving a croaky wheeze in the absence of air in them. Along with his cough, he felt dizziness, headaches, and slight nausea.

He kept this all to himself, suffering in silence because he knew you knew how much he hated sick people, much more being sick, and he didn’t want your pity. But that all was interrupted once you caught him taking a COVID test in your shared bathroom.

You had just returned to the hotel from a trip to the thrift store, something James rarely approved of, not understanding the appeal of buying things second hand when he could afford any luxury clothing you desired, when you noticed him in the bathroom.

Odd, since it was the middle of the day, he usually would be out and about the hotel by now. The door was open so you pushed it open a little further, him not taking any notice to you, and you spotted him struggling to set a 15 minute timer on his iPhone with the test kid splayed out in front of him.

“James?” You called out to him, startling him while he jumped in surprise.

He steadied himself with one strong hand latched onto the bathroom counter, “yes darling?” You moved a bit closer to him and he awkwardly blocked the test from your view with his body.

“What are you doing?” You questioned and he looked around the room desperately for something else to talk about.

“My love, did you go to that dreaded second hand shop again? You know how I feel about that,” he dismissed your question but knew you wouldn’t leave it alone, why would you?

“Don’t change the subject. What is that?” You popped your head behind him.

“Oh this?” He acted as if he’s only just now understood what you meant. He grabbed the testing kit and began to pack it up. “It’s just- um- protocol nowadays for staff and residents of the hotel, we all have to test once weekly.”

It was rare to see him stumble over his words, rarer to see him so nervous while talking to you, he usually has a natural sense of charm when conversing with you but today, he seemed jittery and a bit loopy. Obviously, there was something wrong.

“Hmm,” you hummed at him, clearly seeing through his lie because you had never heard anything about it, which, if his lie was to be the truth, you would have, given that you were a full time resident as well.

He left you with a warm smile and walked out of the bathroom, returning to his desk where he filled out paperwork. You followed, but instead draped yourself along the couch a few feet from his desk.

He was mostly silent for a good 10 minutes until you heard a strange noise, something similar to a stifled cough emit from him. “What was that?” You asked, now completely catching onto him.

“Whatever do you mean?” He didn’t even look up from his work on his desk when responding to you.

“That noise you just made?”

He cringed internally, “what noise?” He figured he could perhaps gaslight you out of thinking he was sick.

You narrowed your eyes at him and he didn’t react at all. Then, like clockwork, he sneezed, and there was absolutely no covering it up from you. He just rested his head in both his hands while you sauntered over to his desk.

You gently removed his paperwork from the center and set it aside, then hoisted yourself onto the desk in front of him.

“James,” you spoke sternly.

“I’m fine, please, don’t fret, I’m a ghost, I’ll be fine,” he reasoned with you and held your two hands in both of his. You crossed one leg over the other.

“How many times have I told you that even in death, you still need to value and prioritize your health?” He was too embarrassed to answer your question, since he knew it was too many times to count.

Wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “go lay down.”

For once, he did as he’s told and reluctantly strips off his day clothes and climbs into bed. You came and sat right by his resting body and layed a hand atop his thigh. His phone alarm blared from the bathroom and he made a move to get up but you restrained him with your hand firm on his leg. In the bathroom you checked, “it’s negative!” You hollered to him.

Emerging to the doorway now, “I’m going to run downstairs really quick, I’ll be back soon,” you told him.

“Take all the time you need, I assure you my dear, I’m fine.”

You squinted your eyes at him but ultimately left the room, hoping that he doesn’t go back to work the moment you leave his sight.

You bought some painkillers from the small shop downstairs along with a Gatorade and a sympathetic look from Liz assured you that James’s condition wasn’t unnoticed by the rest of the hotel staff.

Of course the second you re-entered his hotel suite, he was rushing to situate things at his desk. “James!” you scolded. His eyes met yours and he realized he had far beyond ran out of time.

He just held his hands up in the air in surrender and returned to his bed. The second he settled himself into the center of the mattress, you came and seated yourself in his lab, effectively pinning him down. He sat up and looked at you with a pointed look. “Here,” you handed him the gatorade and painkillers and he took them without a fight, and you were thankful due to his newfound sense of complacency.

He set both objects down on his nightstand once he finished and rested both his hands lightly on your waist. “You truly won’t allow me to continue working today?” You nodded with a smile, and you knew he’d allow you to do whatever you pleased, even if it was just ordering him around, which you found yourself enjoying more than you expected.

“Get some rest. In a few hours, we can talk.” You commanded him and he nodded and situated himself to be laying back down. Finally, you crawled off of him, and cuddled up beside him as you joined him in an afternoon nap.

#ahs #evan peters fanfiction #american horror story #evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters x you #fluff #fanfic #james patrick march x reader #james march x reader #james march #james patrick march #ahs hotel #james march fanfiction

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lulublack90 · 29 days

Text

Prompt 31 - Body Hair

@jegulus-microfic March 31 Word count 1435

Here we go guys. I hope it doesn't disappoint.💜💜

Previous part First part

Something was wrong. Regulus, Barty and Evan had all been summoned, but not to Malfoy Manor. They’d been summoned to a field in Devon.

They’d only just all returned to Rosier House to start planning the best way to defeat Voldemort.

“We’re coming with you,” James told him. “The rest of us will hide. But at least we’ll be there if anything goes wrong.” Regulus argued, but Sirius moved to James’s side and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

“We’re coming, Reggie.” He said firmly. Regulus stopped trying to change their minds.

They apparated together a safe distance from the field into a small wooded area. Regulus’s dark mark was searing with pain as Voldemort summoned him over and over again.

“I love you,” He said, grasping James’s robes and dragging him down for a final kiss. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the others doing much the same.

He let go of James and took Remus’s arm as Voldemort summoned him again. They spun and landed beside Barty and Evan in the centre of a field of long grass.

“My Lord,” They spoke together, bowing low as one.

“What took you?” Voldemort hissed, his anger not hidden at all.

He stood before his entire congregation of Death Eaters. Regulus was pleased to see the werewolves hadn’t been summoned as well. He must think they aren’t that much of a threat. Perhaps he was right.

“We were hunting down my brother as you demanded, my Lord. We were hot on his trail and had hoped to capture him before we answered your call.” Regulus said using his best penitent Lord voice.

“Liar!” Voldemort hissed at them so fiercely that they half expected him to transform into a snake.

With a crack, Bellatrix and three masked Death Eaters appeared beside Voldemort. James, Sirius, Lily and Pandora with them, bound tightly. They shoved their captives forward towards Regulus.

“Pan-Pandora, what are you doing here?” One of the masked Death Eaters spluttered, breaking rank. Lord Rosier was quickly forced back into line by Voldemort’s deadly stare.

“Mr Potter and Mr Black were caught leaving Rosier House last night with our spy in chains. We have put two and two together and assume you are all working together. You have all turned spy for Albus Dumbledore.” Voldemort spat the name as he revealed why they’d been summoned. “Did it start when you were captured?” He asked Regulus.

Regulus set his jaw and nodded stiffly. Voldemort narrowed his eyes. “You have betrayed Lord Voldemort. What an incredibly foolish thing to do.” While Voldemort had been distracted, Barty and Evan had removed the ropes from their friends. The Thestrals raised their wands in unison.

In her haste, Bellatrix had bound her captives but not unarmed them. She realised her mistake and looked in horror at her master. Luckily for her, his attention lay elsewhere.

“Now, now, children. Lord Voldemort is merciful.” Voldemort raised his hands as though to calm them. “Lord Voldemort will forgive your deceitful ways.” He turned to James, Sirius and Pandora, pointedly leaving Lily out of his offer. “Join me, and all will be forgiven. You shall all have a place at my side as we rule wizarding society as it was meant to be.” Voldemort’s attempted benevolence fell short. Their silence gave him their answer.

The line of Death Eaters moved forward, closing the gap between themselves and their master, standing just behind him, all but one. Orion Black reached up and removed his hood and mask. Unseen by everyone but the Thestrals. He raised his wand and, in one graceful swoop, stunned every Death Eater in the back, taking them all out.

Orion managed to bind and gag the Death Eaters before he was hit by Voldemort’s curse. He fell to the ground screaming and then lay still.

“PAPA!!!” Regulus and Sirius screamed together. Regulus saw the murderous rage in his brother’s eyes and knew his own reflected the same. As one, they turned and pointed their wands directly at Voldemort.

They started blasting off spells one after the other. Voldemort may be mortal now, but he was still more than a formidable foe. They dodged and parried and stuck up shields, sending as many spells as possible at Voldemort, hoping to catch him just once so they could get the upper hand.

Evan caught a spell on the left side of his body. Evan’s face contorted in pain as Regulus watched his friend fall to the ground in slow motion. Barty rushed forward and was struck as he tried in vain to get to Evan.

They were dropping like flies. Voldemort was so powerful. Regulus began to panic that none of them would make it out alive.

Pandora and Lily collapsed simultaneously into the sopping grass next after they successfully cast a slicing charm together, leaving deep slashes across Voldemort’s torso. Voldemort fired off curses in quick succession at them.

Sirius dove in front of Remus as another spell went sailing across them. It clipped Sirius and struck Remus.

“REMUS!!!” He screamed, forgetting about the battle and leaving himself open for Voldemort to take out. He landed on Remus’s chest, both of them deathly still. Regulus pushed the tears away as he forced himself to concentrate on the battle.

His magic had begun to crackle beneath his skin with the anger he felt. He tried to ignore it.

Regulus and James were the only ones left. They defended themselves well, but Voldemort was so powerful.

Regulus heard the guff of air leave James's lungs. He turned just in time to see him crumple to the ground, unmoving.

Regulus’s world stopped. A screeching noise blasted his ears. It took him a while to realise it was his own voice screaming in grief. He turned his attention back to the cackling form before him.

“Just us now, little Lord Black. Are you prepared for the afterlife, I wonder?”

“Are you?!” Regulus felt his magic scorching his body as it fought to get out to avenge the ones he loved. Voldemort threw his head back, cackling louder than ever, still believing himself to be immortal.

The magic swirled around Regulus like the ancient magic of the forest had, ruffling his hair and casting a gloom around him that made him look deadly. Voldemort took an uncertain step backwards as Regulus raged towards him, all semblance of fear gone.

There wasn’t much left of Tom Riddle once Regulus was done with him. He fell to his knees, feeling drained. He’d used more of his magic than he’d ever used before. It left him weak.

He snorted with derision as he looked down at the pieces of wizard in the grass and realised the man had absolutely no body hair. It was an odd thing to realise about the person you’d just murdered, but his brain wasn’t exactly working at full capacity. It probably had to do with not wanting anyone to use Polyjuice Potion in his image. He reasoned as things slowly clicked together.

He turned his head, tears beginning to cascade down his face as he remembered his friends and brother lying around him on the ground. And James. Oh, James. He crawled over to him and dropped his head onto his chest as he fell apart, sobbing into his robes.

A hand came up and rested on the back of his neck.

“Hey, love, don’t cry. It’s alright.” James croaked at him. Regulus snapped his head up and watched as James slowly blinked his eyes open.

His mouth found James’s, and the relief at seeing him, feeling him alive, made his jaw quiver with unshed emotion. He could not have survived without James Potter in this world.

Movement in the corner of his eye made him pull away from James, but he still held on for dear life. The others were all groaning in the grass, but they were all moving. They were all alive!

“Fuck you, Mouldy Voldy.” Barty spat into the grass as Evan hauled him shakily to his feet.

Sirius was clinging to Remus much like Regulus was to James. Somehow, Remus managed to pull him over to where they were standing. James wrapped them in a hug. They were all shaking as the effects of the adrenaline wore off. Lily and Pandora came over next, adding themselves to the group hug, and then Evan and Barty joined in, not wanting to be left out.

They just stood there holding each other. Relief and disbelief flooded through each of them.

“We won,” Regulus whispered as he watched his father get up. “We won.”

Thank you all so much for reading I really hope you enjoyed it.

Lulu xxx

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kai-anderson-whore · 6 months

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Ghost boy (Tate langdon x fem reader smut) kinktober fic 6

Summary: you and your friends go to the abandoned murder house, where you met Tate

Warnings: smut, sex against a wall, sex with a ghost, teasing, clit stimulation somewhat public sex (since it’s a abandoned house 🤷‍♀️)

Word count: 1,5k

A/n: this was shit and the ending was so rushed, I’m so behind on this so I might not post the full ten fics but if I do they may be some after Halloween

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

You heard all the rumours about the infamous murder house, how it's haunted, people who step foot there get killed, how the ghosts that live there aren't really ghosts they're just like humans only cold 'bullshit' you thought. You were always a sceptic about all that paranormal stuff, never believed in it one bit.

So when your friends came up with the idea of visiting the murder house you were more than willing to go and see. You wanted to prove your friends wrong, there was no such thing as ghosts. Now outside the old run down building, wooden barriers barricaded the windows except for one on the side of the house.

"So we going in or what" you spoke up unfazed by the eerie sight of the abandoned house. Your friends on the other hand looked if so they already regretted coming here. "Maybe this isn't a good idea, I mean have you heard the stories y/n, once you go in there's a high chance you never get out to tell the tale" your friend Chelsea's scared tone making you chuckle.

"Yeah and that's what it is a tale, it's just to scare kids from going in here and get drunk, all bullshit" you laughed climbing into the house. "What are you doing, are you crazy!?" Your other friend Oliver hissed. "Oh come on you two wanted to come here in the first place now your chickening out" you scoffed your leather jacket nearly getting caught on an overgrown branch connecting to the brick wall.

"Yeah it's fucking creepy" Oliver admitted you just laughed once again one of your legs on the ledge of the old window, the other inside the house barely touching the ground. "Fine I'm going in, I bet I'll make it out alive" you mocked dismissing them and jumping fully into the old house.

You heard their pleas for you to come back, never did you listen once you got something on your mind you do it. Going further into what you expect to be the dinning room, nothing was really out of place like someone had been living here. Dust was collecting on some parts of the house, no graffiti on the walls or smashed glass like other places you been to 'weird?'.

Nothing really sparked your interests downstairs, deciding to take your attention upstairs. Searching room to room all you found were some old photos of the Harmon family that lived here. Entering another room all dark 'this is probably a boys room' you thought to yourself looking around the room.

Spotting a record collection mostly grunge and rock music nirvana, Alice and the chains, hole and some artists who inspired the grunge scene. "Good taste" you hummed to yourself out loud. "Thanks" a voice chimed making out yelp in fright, clutching your chest.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" You snapped turning your head to find a boy with blonde hair with a amused smile and arms folded over his chest. "Didn't mean to scare you" he defended holding his hands up. "Who are you?" You asked not feeling scared anymore. You couldn't help but find this mysterious guy attractive he wore a knitted sweater with baggy jeans and converse.

"I'm Tate, I live here" he shrugged.

"What you live in a abandoned house yeah right" you scoffed not believing it. "I'm a ghost so yeah I live here" he says in a serious tone. "Sure and I'm the pope, did Chelsea and Oliver set you up for this, if they did nice try" you laughed which only made Tate a little bit frustrated.

"No" Tate unfolds his arms taking a step towards you. "Okay Tate prove your a ghost" you challenged standing from your kneeled position. "Why would I need to prove I'm dead" he scoffed rolling his eyes. "Because your not dead, but you are kinda cute" you smirked, Tate couldn't help but blush at your compliment. "Well thanks I guess, not so bad yourself if I may add" he returned his voice somewhat dulcet but a smirk always playing on his lips.

"Thanks Casper" you smiled biting your bottom lip. Standing up from your kneeled position. Leaving the room exploring more parts of the house. "You know shouldn't really be here alone" Tate speaks up you turn your head, raising an eyebrow. "And why's that Casper?".

"Because you never know what's in here" he shrugs. You chuckled dismissively, "oh yeah the boogeyman is going to get me is is". Tate smirked at you he couldn't lie he thought you were beautiful, with your leather jacket, the way your hair would flow as the breeze of the house swished past you. He oddly felt nervous around you but wanted to be close to you.

You notice his nervousness, smirking to yourself. "Do I make you nervous Casper?".

"What no" he blushed.

"I do" you laughed stepping closer to him, you could practically feel how nervous he was, swallowing a lump in his throat. You smiled seductively at Tate standing in front of him, "maybe just a little" Tate chuckled blushing. A new wave of confidence washed over you, you couldn't deny he was extremely attractive even if it was weird that he was randomly in this abandoned house.

"And why do I make you nervous Casper?" You teasingly asked using your newfound nickname. Tate swallowed a lump in his throat "w-well your really pretty that's why" he mumbles. Now face to face with him. "Oh really I'm pretty?" You teased now playing with the hem of his flannel.

"Yeah" he chuckled, you couldn't deny your attraction to the boy. Now with the sudden wave of confidence you kissed him, feverishly. Tate's eyes blown wide at your sudden action, but responded to your lips nonetheless. Your hand cupped his cheek deepening the kiss.

A moan left your lips feeling Tate's hands on your body, he was cold but you assumed that it was because of the cold air in the abandoned house. Tate grew the confidence to pin you to the nearest wall you gasped feeling the cold wall come in contact with you.

A smirk crept on his lips, his hand on your waist now slowly creeping under your skirt, his thumb coming in contact with your clit, you let out another gasp and he rubbed you through your nearly soaked panties. You grew wetter by the second, your hand gripped his shoulder to steady yourself. "Your so wet" Tate chuckled retracing his hand from your underwear.

His lips attacked your neck leaving purple marks along your delicate skin. You sighed your hand cupped his bulged rubbing him through his jeans. Before unbuttoning the button. "Eager are we?" Tate chuckles. "Just fuck me" you sighed. Tate pulled down his jeans and underwear just enough for his cock to string free.

His hands on the backs on your thighs signalling your to jump, which you did. Your underwear moved to one side he lined himself up with your entrance teasingly. "Don't tease me" you whined. Tate chuckled slowly pushing himself into you. Your eyes rolling back in pleasure your grip on his shoulder tightened.

Tate bottomed out inside you before retracting his hips from you, thrusting in you. Moans slowly crept their way out your lips, he stretched you out perfectly. Your head resting on Tate's shoulder, "harder" you panted your body jolting with each thrust, "I don't think you deserve it yet" Tate grinned, you immediately felt frustrated with his disapproval of your request. "Please, please Casper, I need it please" you begged, Tate's thrusts got even more slower.

"You know that's not my name, say my name and I'll maybe consider it" Tate's voice was more deep and dominant, "I'm sorry Tate, please fuck me harder please tate" you pleaded. “Well since you asked so nicely” he smirked.

His hips thrusted into you in a much faster pace, you almost screamed out in pleasure and pain, it felt so good. Tates hips were erratic the pace they went you were sure he would split you in two. Your head resting on the wall behind you. Your legs pulling him closer.

You felt dangerously close to the edge, Tate could tell “you close?” He asked, you nodded your head humming in response. “Use your words” Tate coaxed, smirking wickedly. “I’m so close” you panted out. Feeling that knot form in your stomach.

“Let go baby” he whispered, you let go over his cock with a loud moan. Your nails digging into his flannel, your orgasm triggering his own release. He pulling out of you spilling his seed on your thigh. You panted trying to catch your breath.

Tate set your feet down on the floor, you fixed your underwear and skirt. “That was fun” Tate smirked tucking himself back into his pants . You smiled nodding “yeah I gotta go my friends are outside waiting on me” I giggled. “Oh okay maybe I’ll see you around?” He asked. “Sure I’ll see you around” you smiled Leaving Tate.

You made it outside seeing your friends by the gates of the abandoned house. “What took you so long we were about to send a search party out for you” Oliver says. “Keep your head on, I’m here now I just found some cool stuff that’s all” you smirked blushing a little. “Come on let’s go” Oliver sighed, the three of you walked away from the house you looked at a window seeing Tate. You smiled and waved as you walked away.

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