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#james march x reader
Note
i'm soooo glad you're back!!! love your writting so much, was thinking about some ghostface¡ tate or shit yk...like everyone who flirts with reader end murdered
i’m sorry this took me so long to do 😔 but i sorta did my own twist on this request, hope you don’t mind… i love it… anyway… :)
~~~
Lovefool
Tate Langdon x f!reader
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warnings: murder, smut, stalking, obsession, very toxic, manipulation, very minor talk of drug use… virgins, yeah idk what else it’s just stalker tate being crazy for you
summary: tate’s loved you since the first moment you met, and he would do anything to be with you… anything…
word count: 4.4
~~~
2011
You stare at the boy in front of you, a mix of emotions stirring inside you. He’s your age still, you aren’t too surprised at that. You’re more surprised at the fact that he’s in front of you. It’s been so long since the last time you saw him. You remember the pain, the pure fear that paralyzed your body the last time the two of you had an encounter. It still makes you uneasy.
“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice weak.
He shrugs. “It’s Halloween.”
“There’s been plenty of Halloweens Tate and this is the first time I’ve seen you here. What do you want?” You reply in a harsher tone than.
Tate shrugs again and starts to play with the sleeves of his sweater. You can’t believe this is real. You want to close your eyes and pretend this is all a sick dream, though you haven’t slept in years. After a few seconds, you cross your arms over your chest and take a deep breath. This isn’t going to be easy.
“Tate the fact you even have the balls to try to find me is crazy, what happened? Did you suddenly feel some sense of guilt? Are you finally sorry for what you did to me? I don’t even care if you are sorry, I don’t care about anything except the one question I’ve wondered since the night it happened,” you say.
“What question?” He responds.
“Why?” Your eyes start to burn. “Why did you kill me?”
~~~
1993
Tate had never seen any girl as beautiful as you. Never. Not in a movie, not in a magazine, nothing. From the first time he saw you in kindergarten, he knew there was something special about you. Of course, he didn’t know it would grow into what it did until middle school when his hormones took over. His feelings for you quickly transitioned from a pure crush to a sick obsession. And the best and worst part of it all was that you had no idea.
You never really spoke to him. He was out of your league. You were popular, but not braindead popular like the people you surrounded yourself with. Tate had seen you in some of your classes. You were smart, you got the best grades in those classes. You had plans for yourself after high school, unlike your friends. That knowledge only made him admire you more.
The problems began when you started going out with one of the popular boys in your group, David. He was awful for you; Tate didn’t understand why you chose to have such a relationship with someone like that. He’d watch how David would wrap his arms around you in the hallways, leave small kisses on your cheeks, and whisper words in your ears that made your face turn bright red. It made him furious.
What did David have that he didn’t? Why was he so special? Tate knew he could give you more than David ever could. So, why were you with him?
Tate quickly became blinded by rage and jealousy.
At night he’d lie awake, the knowledge that you might’ve been out there opening your legs for another boy making him sick. That’s when the fantasies began. He imagined killing David. How would he do it? Where? In what way would leave the least amount of blood on his clothes? The image of his mutilated body consumed Tate’s thoughts. He liked it.
It was around that time that he had found the mask.
It was a strange mask he found in the basement. It had a long white face with black holes for the eyes and a long mouth. He wondered which resident of his house had left it there for him. He didn’t know, and frankly, he didn’t care. All he knew from the second his eyes fell upon that mask was that bad things were going to happen.
He started going out at night and driving by David’s house. The mask he wore gave him a sense of power he never knew he could feel. At first, it was innocent. He’d simply drive down the other boy's road and look through his window for a few minutes before leaving. But all it took was one second of seeing you inside to blow the whole thing up. He was livid, seeing red. He decided he needed to bring his fantasies to life and get rid of David for good.
Halloween was when the opportunity to kill David became undeniable. By that point, Tate had been stalking the two of you for a month so he knew the basics. Which room was Davids, how to get into his house, and where his parents were most likely going to be. He had it all planned out. So, on Halloween night he put on the mask along with black robes that covered his entire body and ventured to the other boy's house, ready to kill.
He brought a knife, and when the time was just right, he snuck in through one of David’s open windows and started his game. He crept through the empty house, not making a sound. Getting to David’s room only took him a few minutes and what he heard from outside the door made him not regret his choice at all.
“Yeah, I know, listen she’s so close to finally giving it up to me and that’s what I’ve been working for this whole time. Once it happens, I’ll dump her, easy,” David spoke into his phone. His voice was cocky. It made Tate clench his jaw in frustration.
“Because dude, do you know how many girls from school I’ve already got under my belt? Y/N is just gonna be a name on my list. Yeah, whatever, I gotta go anyway I need to shower for the party, maybe I’ll get lucky, and she’ll drink too much. Okay bye.”
Before David could even get up from his chair, Tate kicked the door down and stormed in, too overpowered by his rage to think about anything but slitting the other boy's throat. He pounced on him, stabbing the knife into any part of his body he could reach. David screamed, but Tate quickly silenced him by shoving the knife down his throat. He felt empowered, he felt thrilled at the sight of his dead peer. It was amazing.
Tate didn’t waste much time gawking over his achievement, however. Once he was sure David was dead, he quickly pulled the knife out of the boy and fled out the window and back to his car. As he drove through the small neighborhoods of your guys' town, he wondered how big the news would be. Would you cry? He hoped you wouldn’t. Not over that asshole. You would move on, and Tate would wait however long it took.
~~~
The news of David’s death spread faster than wildfire and consumed Westfield High’s drama for weeks. Out of all the kids in the school, you took his death hardest. Seeing you so depressed almost made Tate regret his actions. He couldn’t bear seeing you tear up in class or show up to school two periods late. You weren’t like that.
However, as the days turned into weeks, you started to appear healthier and happier, and soon enough you were back to your normal self. Tate was glad, you were always so much prettier when you paid attention in class. He decided it was time for the second part of his plan to finally act. Though he was incredibly nervous, he knew it was then or never. He couldn’t risk you getting a new boyfriend that he’d have to kill again.
So, one day, he followed you into the library when the two of you coincidently had a study hall during the same period. His heart was beating so loud he could hear it in his ears. There you were. sitting at one of the tables alone studying, and he was going to speak to you. He’d thought up conversation starters all morning along with taking a few extra hits off his bong to help with the anxiety.
He shook the nervous thoughts from his head and grabbed his notebook from his backpack before walking in your direction. Your head was down, your hand moved aggressively across the paper as you wrote your notes. Tate stood at the other side of the table for a few seconds simply admiring you. His hands were shaky, his breathing uneasy. God, you made him lose his composure by existing. It was excruciating.
After he was done staring, he spoke, his voice quiet. “Hey y/n, do you mind maybe helping me with some of that psych homework?”
Your head shot up, your eyes instantly meeting his. He swore he couldn’t breathe. You, y/n, were looking at him on purpose. At that moment he didn’t care about what you were going to say, he didn’t care if you completely rejected him. All he cared about was how good it felt to have your eyes on him. Such innocent, loving eyes.
“Oh, yeah of course Tate that’s actually what I’m working on right now. Just sit, we can do it together. Unless you’re like super behind,” you answered.
“Are- Are you sure?” He couldn’t help the uncertainty. Did you really say yes to him?
“Yeah... should I not be?” You replied with a smile.
“No- sorry.” He sat down across from you. He could smell your perfume; he’d never been this close to you. “I just wasn’t sure if you even knew who I was.”
You chuckled. “How could I not know who you are? We’ve literally been in the same school system together since kindergarten.”
“I don’t know. You’re you know popular and stuff,” he said as he opened his notebook.
“Not really, besides even if I was that wouldn’t automatically make me forget anyone. But anyway, you can use my notes in a second, I’m almost done with the page,” you responded. You looked back down at your work and started writing again.
Tate nodded despite you not paying attention and watched as you wrote. He felt like that whole conversation was another one of his daydreams about you. Was he really sitting across from you? Or was it another mid-class nap? He cracked his knuckles to make sure he wasn’t dreaming and thankfully, he wasn’t. It was all real life.
“Sorry if this comes out as creepy, but I feel like I haven’t seen you around in a while. I mean, when was the last time we even spoke?” You suddenly spoke, your eyes back on his.
“I guess you weren’t looking hard enough to see me,” he said with a shrug. All his confidence was a facade because on the inside he was losing his mind.
He noticed the way your cheeks slightly turned pink before you replied. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t. But I should have been.”
He knew deep down you were going to be his for so long, but at that point, he knew he had already achieved his goal. You were his.
~~~
“What is this place?” You asked as you clutched your cardigan around your body.
Tate smiled and grabbed both of your hands in his. “I told you it’s a surprise. Patience is a virtue.”
“I have patience, but I also have a lower body temperature than usual and it’s bothering me so I would really appreciate it if you’d just take me to the surprise already,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips.
“It’s seventy degrees.”
“Yeah, but it’s also windy at the beach and it’s probably colder than seventy because of the ocean’s temperature.”
Tate sighed and leaned his head down to press a small kiss on your lips, a feeling he still hadn’t gotten over. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Terrible, naughty things I hope,” you replied, kissing him again. “But please lead me to your special surprise beach spot.”
Though he wanted to stand there and kiss you all night, Tate obeyed your request and began to lead you further down the beach. It had been a few months since the two of you started talking, and to say it progressed would be an understatement. Tate had truly underestimated how easy it would be to capture your attention. All you wanted was a sweet, caring, genuine boy and he could be all those things easily.
So, after a month of being friends, he asked you out and you said yes. The relationship grew deeper with each day, and it didn’t disappoint him one bit. He loved everything about you. The way you’d lie on your bed with him and talk for hours, the way you’d make your relationship with him public by holding his hand in the halls, and most importantly the way you never expected or wanted him to change to fit in with your friends. You liked him for who he was, and it melted his heart.
It was your three-month anniversary, and Tate wanted to make it special. Even though he knew before the two of you got together that you were a virgin, he didn’t know to what extent you were. He quickly became aware you had done most things already, just not full sex. At first, he was annoyed at the fact that you weren’t completely his because he had never done anything with a girl before you. But after the first night, you went down on him, he wasn’t that upset anymore.
On this night he planned to take the next step with you. He had it all set up. The blankets, the lights, all of it. As the sight of his setup came into view, he watched your face light up. You squeezed his hand and grinned up at him.
“Is this really for me?” You asked.
“Yeah, do you like it?” He replied.
You nodded and sped up to reach it, dragging him with you. Once you made it you dropped down to sit on the blanket, urging Tate to do the same. “This is so cool. You’re the first boy to ever do something like this for me. I love it.”
“I’m glad, I know how you like sentimental things,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “And I’ve been wanting to show you this spot for a while. I used to come here a lot as a kid and watch the waves with my dad... before he left. I wanted to make it special with you because you’re not like my dad. Right?”
“No, I’m not. I won’t ever do anything to hurt you like that. I lo- I like you Tate, a lot.”
Tate only stared into your eyes, his heart beating faster than it ever had in his life. You almost said you loved him. He knew then that night was going to be the night you finally gave yourself to him. Something in your eyes made him certain. Your eyes were dark. You stared up at him as if he were the only boy in the world. There was a feeling in the air, one of lust and fear.
“I’ll never want to hurt you either,” he mumbled after a few seconds. “I doubt I ever could.”
You gave him a small smile and placed one of your hands on his cheek. You caressed the skin with your thumb as you slowly started to lean your face toward his. He accepted your lips on him, kissing back instantly. It was the moment he’d been working up to for years. He was finally going to lose his virginity to you, and you to him. Nothing would ever compare.
~~~
The sound of Nirvana mixed with skin slapping filled Tate’s room. He couldn’t help the moan that left his lips when he looked down at you. Your back was arched so perfectly, your waist looked impossibly small, and your ass looked incredibly big. The side of your face was smushed against one of Tate’s pillows. You were so red, so loud you had to bite your hand to spare the whole house from hearing. Tate took in a deep breath and slapped your ass, his thrusts not faltering for even a second.
“Fuck baby, you look so pretty right now. You take me so well,” he whispered. He wrapped some of your hair around his hand and yanked you up, making you practically scream. “Yeah, you like that. You like being manhandled y/n?”
You let out another moan but didn’t reply. Tate slapped your ass again and threw you back down to the mattress. He leaned over you, your sweaty body feeling perfect against his. He was close to finishing. He’d already made you cum a few times that day, so he wasn’t too concerned about where you were. All he was concerned about was getting closer to you before he came.
“I love controlling you, you’re so helpless. Fuck I’m so close,” he mumbled in your ear. “You’re mine, all fucking mine forever. I’ll kill anyone who even tries to take you away from me.”
You made a noise and Tate couldn’t hold back any longer. He came inside you, his cock pulsing heavily. You groaned; his cock was hitting your cervix too hard it hurt. He waited a minute or so before finally pulling out and moving to the spot next to you on the bed. He’d never felt anything as amazing as having sex with you. He was breathless.
He was so caught up in his thoughts about what just happened that he didn’t notice your sad expression. When he eventually looked at you, he saw your frown. Immediately he turned to his side and faced you, reaching out one of his hands to brush a few of your hairs behind your ear.
“What’s wrong baby?” He asked.
“Nothing,” you replied.
“It doesn’t look like nothing you look sad; you can tell me whatever it is.”
You sighed and turned your head to meet his gaze. “Why do you like hurting me? Like during sex and stuff. You’re always so rough and I don’t know you’re really mean and sometimes the stuff you say is… scary.”
“How is it scary?” He laughed.
“You said you’d kill anyone who would try to take me away from you,” you said.
“Yeah, I would. I swear I’ve said this shit to you before. I would do anything for you, or to keep you,” he responded.
“Don’t joke about that Tate, you know I’m scared of killers because of what happened.”
“Oh, so this is about David? Why are you even thinking about him y/n he’s been dead for months. Do you miss him, or something is that it?” He questioned; his tone harsher than before.
You scoffed and sat up. “You’re seriously making this about me missing David?”
“Well, is that what this is about?”
“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered before you stood up and started to get dressed.
“Oh, my fucking God y/n I’m sorry for whatever I said wrong while we were fucking. Can we just move on already? I don’t see what the big deal is,” he snapped.
“No, we can’t just move on. You scare me sometimes Tate like genuinely. I know you mean it all in a sweet way but it’s weird. I love you but you don’t hear me saying I’d kill people if they talked to you or looked at you a certain way. That’s not normal.”
Tate sat up. “I wish you would say those things. I wish you loved me as much as I love you. I’d do anything you ask; I would shoot up the fucking school if you wanted me to.”
You looked at him, he could see the terror and fear in your eyes. “Are you serious?”
“Of course, I am. I don’t get why you’re acting so scared. I’d never hurt you I don’t even think I could if I wanted to, you mean more to me than any person alive or dead,” he answered.
“You’re sick,” you mumbled. You grabbed your bag and walked to the door. “I think we need some time apart; you aren’t sane.”
His heart practically stopped. “What?”
“We need to stop seeing each other for a little while, I can’t take this insane shit Tate. I’m sorry. You know I love you, but I need you to get some help before I can be with you.”
Before Tate could reply, you left. All he could do was stare at the door, a million thoughts roaming his head. Did you really just break up with him? Was that it? Did you just throw away everything the two of you had because you felt his love was too strong? It didn’t feel real.
As the night progressed, he tried to call you, dozens of times. But each call was either declined or rang out. His anxiety grew with each ring of the phone. Why weren’t you replying? Who were you seeing? Did he really mean so little to you that you could leave so easily? His mind spun with scenarios, each one worse than the last. By the end of the night, he had convinced himself you were cheating on him, and the following days only worsened his state of madness.
You ignored him completely in school. Every time he tried to talk to you, you either turned away or walked away completely. It hurt him terribly. He couldn’t understand what had changed so fast. He chased you around the halls for days, trying his hardest to get your attention. But it never worked. And so, his love for you began to fade into an awful rage.
He couldn’t let you just walk away from everything the two of you shared. You were his. Only his. He couldn’t let you leave him, not like his dad. He hadn’t spent his entire life chasing you just to end up losing you. No. So, he began to formulate a plan. He’d leave you alone for a few days then calmly ask you to meet him at the beach, in the special spot he once made for you.
He wasn’t surprised that his plan worked. You were predictable.
When the night came, he made sure he was prepared. He snorted a line, packed his bag full of your favorite things, and set off. As he walked down the beach, he made sure the knife he hid was secure in his pocket. It was smaller than the one he’d used on David, but it would do the job just as efficiently.
You arrived a few minutes after him, a sad expression on your pretty face. He fought the urge to run to you with open arms.
“Thank you for coming,” he said. Only a few feet separated your bodies, he wished he could close it. But he needed to be patient.
You took a deep breath, you looked nervous. “Yeah, look Tate I... I’ve thought about it and I... I really think we should stop seeing each other for some time.”
“Why Y/N? I love you, so fucking much. I’m sorry for what I said, I can change, I won’t say shit like that ever again. I’ll be gentle, I swear. Just give me the chance I can be whatever you need me to be,” he replied desperately. He opened his bag and pulled out your favorite candy. “I love you; I really do. Please give me another chance.”
He watched your eyes fill with tears. You wanted to give in, he could see it in your eyes. But you only shook your head and wiped a fallen tear from your cheek.
“No. I’m sorry. Tate, you aren’t gentle, that’s not who you are. And I don’t want you to pretend to be someone you aren’t.”
Tate swallowed hard. “You promised me you’d never leave me; you said you were nothing like my dad. Was it all a lie?”
“Of course not!” You exclaimed and took a step closer to him. “I love you; I really do. That’s why this is so hard.”
“If you love me, why can’t we work this out? Don’t lie to me Y/N.”
He couldn’t stop his eyes from watering, nor could he stop his lips from quivering. He dug the bouquet of your favorite flowers out from his bag and held them out to you.
“Please,” he mumbled. “I need you.”
You caved. You wrapped your arms around his waist and held him tight. He could feel your muffled cries on his chest, it pained him. You were a sensitive sweet girl; it was both your blessing and curse.
“Maybe in a few months, we can try again, I don’t know.” You looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. “We just can’t be together right now. And I mean we’re going to graduate soon, and I might go to a college far away, how would that even work? But I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It’s too late for that Y/N, you’ve already hurt me.” He dropped what he was holding and dug one of his hands into his pocket. He touched your face with his other hand, your tears covering his palm. “You’ve planned on leaving me this whole time. I wanted to give it another try you’ve made up your mind. I guess it just comes down to one thing.”
“What?” You asked.
“If I can’t have you, no one can,” he whispered before he pulled out the knife and plunged it into the side of your neck.
~~~
2011
“I killed you because I loved you,” he answers. “Because you were going to leave me and find someone else.”
All you can do is stare at him in silence. You think back to everything that happened. How could you have been so blind? It couldn’t have been your fault though. He would’ve killed you anyway. You think back to all the times Tate made you uneasy, all the times he would say things that creeped you out. Deep down you must’ve known that’s who he is. Maybe you knew all along.
Maybe you loved him because of his darkness.
You exhale a long breath. “We don’t have that long till midnight.”
“So?”
You shrug. “Wanna hook up?”
58 notes · View notes
nahoyasboyfriend · 2 days
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You're a shivering, sniffling mess. Laying on your back, belly up. You're stuck and vulnerable like a fish on a chopping block. His incisions are getting deeper. The sting has your cunt clenching around nothing. The melange of pain and pleasure makes you dizzy. You can barely see past the tears, and you can't think straight. Pathetically, you whimper, "James— ah, oh god, stop!"
He pauses.
"You want me to stop?" He croons, dark and low. His hand settles on your neck. Slowly, you shake your head, and he gives you a sharp smile. "That's right, because if you truly wanted me to stop. You would've said our safe word," his grip tightens around your neck, and you barely focus on his words as the lack of oxygen makes your vision swim.
"The word you specifically choose to halt this when it gets too much. but you didn't say it, did you?" He purrs, and somehow through sheer will you manage to give him a weak, little head shake 'no.'
You can feel your consciousness slipping, dripping through the cracks like water. He lets go of your throat, and you sputter, the oxygen rushing to your brain has you feeling like you're floating. "Then you can take more, you will take more. Won't you, pet?"
You don't respond too busy enjoying the ability to breathe freely, but he doesn't seem to take kind to that.
"Say you will." The look in his eyes is dangerous and his strict tone yanks a whine out of you. "I— fuck, I will. I'll take it."
He leans forward to press a kiss on your damp forehead, "very good, dear."
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missuswalker · 4 months
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𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 || 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
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✮ 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
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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.”
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short and sweet, i love him sm
(send in requests, i beg)
619 notes · View notes
taintandviolent · 8 months
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deflowering ; James March x virgin!Reader
{requested by anonymous} summary: 7k words! after a little dancing, more than a little champagne, you decide to take James March up on his offer of going up to one of the new rooms of the Hotel Cortez, to break them in, as it were. Little does he know, he's about to break you in, too. w a r n i n g s: virgin!reader (adult), mentions of alcohol, rough sex, explicit descriptions, canon divergence, rough sex, thigh riding, cunnilingus, blowjobs, aggression, use of 'daddy', dom themes.
full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪
t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @kaissweetlamb / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @petersevans / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake/ @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @evanpetersfansblog / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @nova-kayne67 / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny
It was the twenty-third of August, 1926, and you had just finished your second glass of champagne in the Hotel Cortez. Usually, you never drank this much, but it was a celebration after all. Some fellow named James Patrick March had finally completed the arduous construction of his new hotel and tonight was the opening night. Crowds had flocked to the entrance, dressed to the nines and all eagerly craning their necks for a peek at the glamorous inside. Those who weren’t explicitly invited were turned away by the doorman in his starched uniform.
You, of course — you’d been invited by your friend’s friend’s friend and when you showed up in a beaded, green dress and the mink stole your mother had given you four birthdays ago, you waltzed right through those doors without a single question. You looked like you belonged here as much as the group of actresses that walked in before you. The moment you entered, the hotel stole a gasp from your lips, dazzling you with its prestige and innovation.
It had been toted as “an overly ambitious project” and you could certainly attest to that. Mr. March, whomever he was, had written a particular aesthetic into the design of his hotel and from the hexagonal patterned carpets to the ornately panelled gold walls, everything fit the opulent theme. The Blue Parrot Lounge was a name you’d heard whispered several times, waiters coming down the curved staircases with trays full of delicate champagne flutes. You learned shortly after that the bar was on the second floor and overlooked the entire hotel lobby.
But downstairs in that lobby, a band was set up, their instruments exhaling the liveliest melody you’d heard in ages. Easily, they persuaded the masses to kick their heels up. The grand chandelier above your head twinkled like your own personal galaxy, shimmering every time you moved. In fact, everything twinkled. You felt ebullient, as light as a cloud, and didn’t have a care in the world.
There had been a brief pause where Mr. March welcomed everyone to his Hotel in his dangerously cordial way, making a show of popping champagne. Everyone applauded, congratulated and then quickly dispersed, eager to return to the complementary libations. You’d eagerly taken to the dance floor and quickly found a partner in a jazzy white suit. He had blonde hair, sharp, chiseled features and deep green eyes - handsome enough. You two paired alright, enjoying each other’s lively moves.
He’d clearly been drinking more than you, judging by the way he slurred his compliments to you, dabbing nervously at the sheen of sweat that decorated his forehead. After an hour or so of dancing, your feet were sore and your curious nature had wrapped its tendrils around your throat, ordering you to investigate the rest of the hotel.
A server held another glittering tray of champagne high above everyone’s heads, and you snatched one as he passed you, hurriedly bringing it to your mouth. The effervescent liquid tickled the bow of your lips, the tiny bubbles popping as you sucked in a delicate mouthful. You dabbed at the corner of your mouth with your middle finger, trying not to gulp too loud.
As the song changed, the band racing into another upbeat melody, you swung your shoulder around, prepared to sink deeper into the hallways. Instead, you nearly collided with a broad shoulder. “Oooh! ‘Pardon me!”
“Mm.”
You recognised him right away. In the wicked and honest parts of your brain, you were thrilled that, of all people, you’d bumped into him. During his speech, all the women were staring with illicit gazes and hungry tongues. You’d mapped the direction of their eyes as they scanned along his face, and down his body as they openly and dissolutely lusted after him. The audible whispers that scattered the room when he cracked open the champagne, allowing the fizzy stream to spray into his mouth would’ve been laughable if you hadn’t been one of the whisperers.
He seemed slightly less personable now, almost curt in nature. Something about the dismissive way he’d flashed his brows at you as if he was annoyed sparked a fire in your curiosity. He was too handsome to let slip through your fingers, and surely, there must be a reason for his clipped response. You gulped down a mouthful and cleared your throat.
“Say, aren’t you Mr. March?” You asked coyly, knowing full well who he was.
He stopped then, like he’d been challenged to a duel, and with a slight bow, turned gracefully on his toes. To him, it was a challenge. You hadn’t run off with your tail between your legs, offended by his sternness, and that was a challenge for conversation, for flirtations and perhaps… indulging himself.
“Indeed I am. Enjoying yourself?” He eyed the half-empty glass in your tiny little hand, taking note that it clearly wasn’t your first.
“Oh, very much so. This is a ssswell party, Mr. March.”
“Splendid! And please,” He took your hand in his, pressing his lips against your knuckles. “Call me James.”
You cooed in acknowledgment, watching him from the rim of your glass. He lingered for a little too long and you would’ve bet your last penny that you saw his nostrils flare slightly as he inhaled a deep breath of your scent. After a moment, James straightened up, keeping a firm grip on your hand.
He had indeed; you were sweet, like a delicate pastry with the slightest hint of fruitiness underneath. There were notes of a perfume, floral, something moderately expensive — surely, something you’d saved up all your pocket change for. The way your eyes glimmered awoke a deep hunger within his core. He’d play with this.
“Tell me, my dear. Can you dance?” He asked.
The moment you said you could, he’d wrapped your slender arm around his forearm, holding onto it tightly as he towed you back towards the dance floor. Thank god your mother had insisted you learn how to dance properly. And thank heavens your friend, whom Mother detested, taught you how to dance improperly. Mother had always said these new trend dances were for immoral and loose women, but when James March insisted you dance the Charleston with him, you’d never been gladder for immorality in your life.
Keeping a tight hold on your hand, he swung you out into the clearing. With his fee hand, he made a quick gesture to the band. They responded by starting up the familiar melody, and James stepped to your side, lifting his brows in a silent confirmation that you were as ready as you looked. You gave him a short nod, and you both took one step backwards, beginning the shuffling motions.
His feet moved quick to the rhythm; behind and in front of each other, his heels kicking out to the side. All things considered, you made a worthy partner, keeping up with his lively, bobbing movements. Your hands were at your waist, fingers splayed out, swishing from side to side. You both leaned forward in unison and sent your right heels up into the air. The moment you straightened up again was when you realised that a small crowd had gathered in the lobby of the Hotel Cortez and all of their eyes were on the two of you. Everyone was watching as you two masterfully stepped the Charleston and you felt like a celebrity, a performer with the most handsome partner.
There was one woman in particular, a gorgeous brunette gal, who looked on with narrowed eyes. James stepped in front of your line of sight, flashing a villainously personable smile, and spun you back to his side. Though he wouldn’t dare voice it, the beginning twitches of an erection had his cock stirring in his pants. You were delectable and lively, something he’d take great pleasure in snatching away from you. All the more arousing that she hasn’t the slightest clue….
As the song ended, you couldn’t help but dissolve into a fit of giddy laughter, falling backwards into his chest. You couldn’t be sure, but as his arms enclosed around you, you thought you heard a syrupy laugh deep in his throat. Both of you were tuckered out, chests heaving, a misting of sweat covering your décolleté and his forehead. After a moment in his strong arms — ooooh, his arms — he brought a handkerchief from a pocket, dabbing his forehead gently. Modest applause peppered the crowd, along with a few glad compliments.
“I don’t mean offence by this, but…” You swallowed, wetting your throat. “I didn’t think you could dance like that!”
“I’m full of surprises.” He answered.
James swooped around you, circling you predatorily. His fingers ghosted over the back of your neck, sending a convulsive shiver down your spine.
You two locked eyes then, staring wordlessly. Both of you unable to ignore the need, the pulling draw, the hunger to touch each other. It was the sort of gaze that started rumours. His tongue scraped along the roof of his mouth, longing to taste the churning arousal between your legs. He knew it was there, told plainly by the way you fiddled with the hem of your neckline, nervously, trying to placate your own licentious thoughts.
“Beautiful hotel, really.” You finally whispered.
“Allow me to show you the best room in the house.” His eyes flashed to yours, sensing the apprehension. You rolled your shoulders inward, prepped to decline as politely as you could.
“Oh now, now… no need to be shy. I’m a gentleman first and foremost.”
“I don’t know if your lady friend will enjoy that…” You retorted.
“You are the only lady in my company.” He assured.
You gazed behind him one more time and met eyes with her — an action you’d immediately regretted. Her gaze was as comforting as a jail cell, and her full lips were pulled into a tight, frustrated line that held back a myriad of hatred. You opened your mouth to speak, but a forefinger was pressed hurriedly into your cupids bow, shushing you quickly. He looked down at you, brows furrowed in disapproval.
“Now, now. Shh. I’d hate to have to cut out your tongue, my dear. I had plans for it later.”
Your brows pulled together, eyes displaying nothing but sheer confusion. What on Earth did he mean by that? Either of those things? You were too afraid to broach the question, partly in fear that the answer would’ve frightened you, or worse, aroused you.
As though he read your mind, heard your innermost thoughts, he added quickly: “If you want to find out what… well, you’ll have to follow me first, my dear. Shall you?”
He extended his hand to you, palm up.
Against your better judgement and without thinking a second more about the repercussions, you took it and managed to squeak: “To the moon, James.”
When you glanced over his shoulder a final time, that woman watched you as he led you away, that tumultuous anger burning in her eyes. Something about her piercing gaze sent a shiver down your spine. She looked innocent enough, but underneath the done-up exterior, there was a cruelness, a hostility that you wanted nothing to do with. You hurried your steps, pinning yourself closer to James.
The journey took longer than you expected as every few moments, he was stopped by a hotel guest and congratulated. Everyone from stuffy elderly couples to actors you recognised from pictures all wanted to shake hands with the man that had created “the hotel of the century”. You hung on his arm, politely silent, offering agreeing nods and kind smiles when they’d look at you. They must’ve assumed, of course, that you two were an item, and for that brief, fleeting moment, you were thrilled by the idea.
Once he’d pushed open the door, allowing room for you to walk in, you realised that the room he’d led you into was the room he’d cracked the champagne in — except it had been expertly cleaned within a few hours. There were no crowds, no remnants, no sounds aside from a pair of breaths; yours and his. Although, if you listened hard enough, you thought you heard the dull, muted music from below. It sounded hazy and slower up here in this room.
The lock clicked into place and James had you in his arms, his face buried in your neck, his pencil-thin moustache tickling the sensitive flesh under your jaw. He whispered seductive words of veneration into the nape of your neck, praising your appearance between breaths and tastes of your salty flesh.
“Forgive my eagerness,” he whispered into your ear, before nipping at your skin. “I find you… irresistible.”
Delighted by the sensations, your lids fluttered. You extended your neck to him, allowing more. He kissed your neck over and over again and began sucking too hard in certain spots. You let out the tiniest little hums of discomfort, trying to stretch away from him then. However, somewhere deep in your core, you craved that pain, the burn of his suckling kisses.
“I want you to kiss me.” He declared, finally pulling away to gaze upon your face, like he was studying it. “Kiss me, but don’t hold back. I want to feel your passion.”
You nodded quickly, feigning all the courage in the world. Nervous? Who, me? Never! Your lips clashed together as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself as close to him as you could. His mouth parted, allowing his tongue out to swirl around yours, and you could taste the champagne that lingered on it like a fading memory. He deepened the kiss, moving further into your mouth and all you could do was moan into his. Silly girl, he must’ve thought.
His hand left your side, trailing further down. With a cruel tug, James yanked your stocking from its front clip, tearing a generous hole in the nylon, then repeated the process with the other. You broke the kiss to watch this fiery display of arousal in awe, feeling a new, unfamiliar fire in your stomach. You’d been aroused before — hell, even pleasured yourself shyly under the sheets… but the hunger. The hunger that clawed at your insides with reckless abandon was speaking in a foreign tongue… but it was one that you wanted to translate into physicality.
“Oooh, easy tiger…”
His fingers splayed out over your now bare thighs, exploring the smooth skin ravenously. As he neared your centre slit, he snarled in response — whether intentionally responding to the animalistic nickname you’d given him, or because he’d felt the slippery nectar dripping from between your legs, you couldn’t know. You thought it might be the latter. You hoped it was.
Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you to wobble forward with want. He made a beeline to the nearby alcohol cart that had been arranged near the door and poured amber liquid into one of the glasses and golden champagne into another. He brought the darker coloured one to his lips.
“Mmm…” He growled as he swallowed, locking eyes with you, walking confidently towards the nearby chair. Though his head was turned away from his destination, he didn’t stumble, just gracefully sunk down into the chaise lounge without spilling a drop of his precious liquor.
You were in awe of this man’s finesse, of his charm, and the adoration for him displayed all over your cheeks. You didn’t need to bring out your compact to know that the flush had travelled down your neck, and your pretty little doe-eyes were as wide as saucers. He set the glass of champagne down on a nearby end table, presumably where it would stay until you reached for it.
“What’s underneath that ravishing dress, hm?” He asked. You gathered your lips to one side in a coy expression.
“Let’s see,” you tittered. "My bra and my knickers. And…. A pair of torn stockings and shoes, if you’re a specifics kinda’ guy…” You knew he was.
He waited.
You raised your brows, cocking your head to the side in affirmation — that was all. You were a woman of style after all. In this outfit? You wouldn’t be caught dead in a corset or a slip. Besides, corsets were for stuffy old broads nowadays. Everyone was wearing bras.
“Take it all off. Everything but the dress.”
Surely, the dress would be the first thing to go? It was an odd request, even for your virgin experience. You’d heard stories of men and their covetous desires. The idea of keeping the biggest article of clothing on seemed unorthodox, but you weren’t about to question his demands.
Obediently, you bent down and undid the buckles of your shoes, stepping out of them carefully. With a shy bat of your lashes, you turned away from him, shimmying and shrugging out of the straps of your dress until they fell into the crooks of your arms. Reaching around behind your back, you unlatched the satin bra, letting your supple breasts spring free of the compression.
Your heart pounded as you bent down again to slide the satin underwear over the curve of your ass and down your equally satiny thighs, giving the man behind you the tiniest previews of what was to come. Facing him again, you held your dress at your chest, carefully sliding the straps back up your arms one by one.
With a drink in one hand, the other stretched over the back of the loveseat and a delightedly smug expression, James watched your undergarments fall to the floor piece by piece. His cock throbbed in his pants, the thick fabric doing a damned good job at keeping the beast at bay. Free of everything, your dress hung a little different now, and his black eyes were aflame with the realisation. You swayed back and forth, the strands of sequins brushing lightly against your thighs.
As you bent down one final time, reaching for the nylons, came his voice. “Leave those.”
After a small sip, he pat his thigh twice with his free hand; the sound of his palm snapping against the taut fabric atop his thigh echoed in the room. For a brief, insecure second, you were frozen. A deer in the headlights. Except the headlights weren’t headlights, they were the eyes of the hungriest tiger you’d ever seen and you’d already succumbed to your fate the moment he locked the door.
“Come to daddy.”
You shuddered in response, your tummy doing backflips like an acrobat in a circus act. His words held such command and purpose, you had no choice but to saunter over to him, swaying your hips a little more than you usually did. He seemed to enjoy that; a tiny smirk played out over his mouth.You pressed your knees against his, struggling to not come undone at the contact. With a deep breath, you manoeuvred yourself in between his parted legs.
“Good…” He replied. “Atop my thigh, my pet.”
With your flesh turning a deep shade of red, you walked over his thigh, resting one knee on the edge of the cushion. You felt the air on your cunt, the chill of the room touching the wetness and making it tingle. You looked down at his groin. The fabric was pulled taut. You could make out the faintest outline of a swelling cock underneath —
You snapped your attention back to him, embarrassed. He downed the rest of his drink, set it carelessly on the table next to your still-full champagne and lifted his hand to your legs. The pad of his middle finger caressed the back of your knee, sending a shockwave through your entire body. No man had ever touched you like that, the sensation was erotic and overwhelming to your core. Inch by inch, his fingers trailed higher.
You reached for the champagne, and despite the sting in your nose, you downed the entire glass, setting it back on the small table.
“Lower.” He commanded, amused.
You obeyed, bending your knees.
“Lower.” He repeated.
He’d lined it up perfectly; James pressed that same finger into your slit as you lowered, wiggling it further in, then flicking it up to your clit. You let out a shrill mewl. Your knees nearly buckled as he circled the bundle of nerves, bringing the sensitivity higher. You squeezed your eyes shut as hot, salty tears bit at the corners. Your muscles had begun to quiver, overwhelmed by the strain of hovering over his thigh. His skilful fingers manipulated your cunt, simply playing with your wetness.
James abruptly yanked you all the way down, forcing you into a straddle. Your cunt was spread, pressed tight against his thigh and you needed no instruction on what to do next.
“Ooooh,” he growled, watching your hips as they ground your weeping cunt against the expensive fabric of his suit pants. “Good girl. Your desire is intoxicating… show me how much you want me…. yes.”
James chuckled, knowingly. Despite your best effort in trying to suppress your moans, he saw through the act. The skin of your neck had flushed red. Your soft jaw hung slack, tiny little moans floating out every time he touched you. Your sweet little eyes rolled back into your head every time he so much as flexed his thigh muscle. He knew the effect he had on you. Every slight movement from him ground against your cunt, sending shuddering waves of heat into your core.
“I said,” he started, gripping your jaw hard between his thumb and pointer finger. “Show me how much you want it, my dear.”
You winced, but allowed instinct to kick in. You began bobbing up and down on his thigh, whimpering as the wet spot on the fabric spread. The slick glistened on the fibres as you ground back and forth. Eventually, the friction of dry against wet lessened, and you found a rhythm, bouncing. His leg bumped into your sensitive, aching clit over and over again.
As you rode his thigh, James gripped your dress at the shoulders, kissing up along the curves of your arm. There was a warmth on your skin, a tugging, though you were too deep in the sensations to pull away. A cacophony of ticking began; tiny beads scattered across the floor, bouncing and dancing into crevices where they’d never be found again.
When you finally glanced down, a look of shock painted across your features. Your dress had been ripped at the seams, the delicately beaded fabric now hanging limply at your hips in a mass. James looked on, adoringly, his hungry, inky eyes dancing over your exposed breasts, and the way your nipples had hardened in the slightly colder air.
“What’s wrong, my dear? Are you frightened?” He asked. The lilt in his question was too revealing, but alas, who was he to deny the delicious aroma of fear?
“Who me?” You laughed breathily, like a fool. Sweat pooled in the hollows of your collarbone. No time like the present, you thought. You’d reached the point of no return, and surely if you didn’t say something now, he’d find out when he took you. “Oh, no, it’s just that… I’ve never been with a man is all.”
The realisation swept across his face, the expression telling all the tales of how he felt about being the first man to have a woman. “Aaahhh…. And do you…. wish to be…?”
“With you?” You swatted the air dismissively. “More than anything.”
“Brave. Brave girl.” With that, he scooped you up in his strong arms, and got up from the chair. You wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you effortlessly to the table. The journey was short, and before you knew it, your bare back was laid on cool wood. Your legs hung off the edge, and with one strong yank, James pulled the tattered dress from your hips, tossing it heedlessly behind him.
“Knees up — heels on the table.” He then ordered, sternly. Pulling your knees towards your chest, you adjusted yourself on the table and swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable. Short of hearing the snap of latex gloves, you were left feeling like you were about to be examined by a doctor.
James disappeared from your view then, sinking down below the edge of the table. With nothing to look at, you gazed up at the ceiling with wide eyes, anticipating the next move. When it came, you let out a yelp, your legs closing on either side of his head. James had pressed his lips against her, peppering little kisses against your centre, and after a moment or two of that, opened his mouth to slip his tongue deliberately along the folds. The sensation of his tongue darting out to taste you was enough to send you to the moon, but he continued, delving further into you. Your legs opened again, exposing more of your aching cunt to him.
You felt his nose press into the mound of flesh as he flattened his tongue on your clit, lapping at it hungrily. Your body responded by squirming, a desperate whimper pouring from your throat. His hands were suddenly on your pillowy thighs, holding you tight where you were. With a vibrating groan, his tongue abruptly changed techniques; he began flicking the tip of his tongue into the underside of your clit. Your moans - though they were teetering on the edge of screams — bounced off the walls of the empty room.
In a delirium of ecstasy, you’d gripped the hair at the crown of his head, pulling it hard. He grunted into your pussy, sending vibrations deep into your core. His hand came down on the side of your ass with a resounding slap. You shuddered violently, your sopping cunt clenching tight against his chin, wetting it as your first orgasm came in sudden waves. James slipped his tongue deep inside of your entrance, feeling the pulses as they gradually subsided. Before pulling away to look at the flower in front of him, and what he’d done to it, he let out a throaty, pleased growl. A small puddle had formed on the table, your slick arousal leaking from the hole like sweet nectar dripped from the centre of a fruit.
“Ahhh…” he exhaled. “Divine.”
His eyes darting to the side, James made a mental note to have Miss Evers re-polish the table. After this, it would certainly need it.
The way he gazed upon you, seemingly satisfied with just how wet you were drove your head into the table with a thunk. You arched your back with a whimper, somehow still unsatisfied. From the side, came his voice. “Use your words, my darling.”
Your eyes snapped open, startled that you hadn’t heard him move around. You swallowed, looking up at him piteously. For a moment you dug deep into your own mind, battling with coherency to find the correct words. And, disappointingly, all you could muster was: “I… want more.”
“Yes….. yes, you do.”
Gently, with two fingers, James pulled your jaw towards him, moving your head so that your cheek laid against the table. There was a certain predatory nature in his gaze as he looked at you. “Open up,” he demanded, his thumb prodding your lips. “That’s my girl…”
He smeared his thumb along your warm, strong tongue, depressing it and feeling around the rest of your mouth. He glided over your smooth teeth, digging the fleshy pad into the decently sharp points of your incisors.
“Don’t bite me… too hard.”
With that, he began unbuckling his trousers with one hand, sliding the belt from its loop. You watched intently as this handsome, charming stranger handled himself; taking himself out his undergarments and his trousers, roughly adjusting his cock so that it was free for your devouring. He closed his hand along the length, pumping it several times. A generous droplet of precum leaked from the red, sweating tip and before it had time to string away, he guided his cock to your mouth.
He smeared your lips over the head, coating it in his own dripping seed. His hips then bucked the length into your mouth, bringing a whimpering gag from deep within your throat. Gentle, he thought. With the way your mouth eagerly worked him, doing your best to suck and lap at his aching cock, that thought was whisked away seconds later.
Wet sounds filled the room as James fucked your pretty little mouth, your lipstick smearing waxy, blood-coloured streaks on the shaft of his cock. In your peripheral, it was quite a gruesome sight, but he seemed to enjoy it, tilting his head to watch.
You closed your lips around the tip as it slid out, letting your tongue flatten on the underside of it. You felt every throbbing vein, but every time your tongue or lips grazed that one, the protruding one, James making sounds that you’d only ever dreamed of hearing a man make. It was a breathy, higher pitched moan, or a choking gasp, and each time he did, the corners of your lips curled up into a smile, delighted with eroticism. You pressed your tongue hard into it, sliding it up and down. From this angle, you realised, you couldn’t do much else… but perhaps that’s how he’d wanted it.
You remembered his previous mention of biting, so thinking that it was something he favoured, you began toying with his sensitivity by grading your teeth along his shaft. He hissed, ceasing his thrusts to crane his neck back, revelling in the amalgam of pain and pleasure.
“Harder,” he demanded.
You furrowed your brows in concern, daunted by the new territory that lay ahead. You closed your mouth a little more, the ridges of your teeth gently clamping down on his swollen cock. Suddenly, James gripped your face hard, squeezing your cheeks together like a fish. You winced as he leaned forward to hiss in your open mouth, his demeanour suddenly callous and dreadful. “I said not too hard.”
He released it sharply as you did, and punishingly bucked his hips into your wanting mouth. His thrusts were quick, and marvelled at the tiny, pathetic gags that broke from your throat every time he hit the back of it. You were so delicate, but so… willing.
Suddenly, he pulled his cock from your lips with a sick, filthy slurping sound, and holding it in his right hand, moved back to the head of the table. His breaths were ragged, hungry. You blinked away the tears that had accumulated.
“You nearly ruined my makeup…” You whispered, wiping the slimy collection of drool and precum from your chin.
“I’ll do more than that.” Gripping you at the knees, James yanked you down the table’s length, your ass slipping easily against the polished wood.
Briefly, you felt the velvety hot tip of his cock teasing your cunt. He slid it between your wet folds, exhaling loudly at the slickness that greeted him. He teased you with a thrust of his hips, the tip of his head slipping slightly. You whined as he pulled away.
“What did I say about words?”
Like a toddler throwing a tantrum, you moaned shakily, gritting your teeth. “Don’t do that…”
“Do what?”
“Tease me…”
“Oh, but it’s fun. I’ll do so until you beg for it.”
“PLEASE!” You howled a moment later, taking fistfuls of his shirt and yanking him closer. You wiggled your hips at his groin, your cunt trying to find his cock desperately. You writhed around like a cat in heat, whimpering and leaking more cum onto his expensive mahogany table. In one of your hip sways, the hot tip brushed past your entrance, leaving a springy line of pre-cum in its path. In response, you rocked your hips against his, trying to pull him in further. The sensation had you gasping, rolling your head from side to side. “Please, please, please, I simply mu—
Your screams faded away into the back of his mind, dull and muted like they came from behind a brick wall. James watched your lewd, begging performance with a bemused smirk, chuckling through closed lips. Every anguished whimper, every desperate plea that his lack of action brought forward from your lips seemed to send you closer to the edge of madness. He enjoyed that. Too much, perhaps.
He reached up, running a single finger down the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse throbbing away beneath the skin. Such liveliness, such… James swallowed, suppressing the dark sludgy desire that clawed at his insides. His urges had been worse and worse lately, and now with the hotel open… Not now… not with her.
“What do I need to say?”
“Nothing more.” James took hold of his cock, stroking his fingers over the tip, dragging the slickness along his shaft. He exhaled, lining himself up. At first, James popped only the tip in and out, playing with his food. Each thrust, he slipped a little farther in. Out of the kindness of his heart, James was gradually getting you used to the feeling of fullness, but once he felt your slick walls, he grit his teeth. He had told you that he was a gentleman first and foremost, but… such is life. He swiftly sank his hard length into you with little friction. You were soaked and all it took was one determined thrust.
For a moment, you felt nothing but a searing pain as the thickness of his cock stretched your cunt wide open. Tears welled in your eyes, a cry bouncing against your rolled lips. The stinging was replaced with a dull ache, and finally, a warmth.
“My, my…” He admired. “Taking it so well already.”
You nodded feebly, doing your best to muster a smile amidst your punishing euphoria. Had you not been as wet as you were, it would’ve been excruciating. And when he started pounding, it almost was.
James must’ve sensed your discomfort because he brought his hand to your pussy, his thumb circling your clit. Mercilessly. You cried out like a wounded animal and that seemed to only drive him to continue, stroking his finger down length of your pussy before returning his attention back to the bundle of nerves. Your hips swayed back and forth on the table, desperately trying to get away from the pressure that was blossoming deep within your cunt, just above your bladder. It felt like a tangled mess of fire, and your whole centre was aflame.
You shakily lifted your head, watching as his pelvis smashed into yours, over and over again, his cock slipping easily from your aching, drenched cunt. Your hands climbed his torso. You fiddled with the buttons until his shirt hung open lifelessly, like two ghosts on either side of his body. He moaned as your fingertips explored his stomach, his ribcage, and then curled around the small of his back, forcing their way up underneath the restraint of his clothes. You felt uneven skin, the way that flesh raised once it had healed over deep lacerations.
James suddenly picked up speed, drilling into you harder and that released something in you. You felt devious, immoral, and wanted to howl like a banshee. In fact, you did. You let out a shrill, dirty moan, the kind you heard coming from those brothels as you passed them by. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes before streaming down your temples, disappearing into the hair that laid on the table. Your fingers flexed, nails digging into his back and leaving crescent-moon shaped indentations amongst his scars. Feeling your clenching, he growled and lolled his head back in ecstasy.
You pulled your leg up, pressing your nylon-covered toe against his jawline and gave it a little push.
You heard his breath hitch.
You pushed harder, craning his neck off to the side. His moan said more than any words could’ve. With a devious smirk, you drug your toe down the length of his throat, pressing hard into his windpipe.
James jerked his hips harder and harder until you felt his cock twitch inside you, hot and angry, the first spurt of his orgasm planted deep inside you. He then backed his hips out slightly, just enough for the thick ropes of cum to cover your cunt. His cock bumped into your clit with tiny thrusts, forcing every last milky drop onto you. James straightened up, clenching his fists tightly.
“Ravished. Deflowered. Desecrated!” His words echoed loudly off the walls.
His arms came down with a loud thud on either side of your head, his shirt acting as blinders. There was nothing else in that moment; just you and him and the way he’d claimed you, taken every ounce of innocence you had left.
His hands traced along your collarbone, up the sides of your neck. The black thoughts wormed into his brain, screaming for sating attention. Which weapon would he use? Where he'd cut first - an artery? Arterial blood was always so… satisfying. Would her screams be as such? The final moment, the look in her eye? Perhaps, he could hear those desperate, soprano shrieks if he just…
Thunk-thunk-thunk.
Your lids peeled open, one by one. The blazing light that filtered in through the crack in the deep red curtains burned. You hardly remembered being in a hotel room… alone, and the hotel room you remembered wasn’t the one you were in now. This one looked more or less like any new hotel room that you could’t afford. Moving yourself into an upright position, you let out a depressed bleat… the headache. How much champagne did you have last night? You couldn’t remember.
Sleepily rubbing your eyes, you stumbled towards the door. “Just a minute!”
You were completely nude. That wouldn’t do to answer the door in. Panicked, you looked around the empty hotel room, considering the bed sheets for a moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a Praising the gods for the robe that had been hung on a hook by the door as you slipped your arms into it and hurriedly tied it round your waist. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the framed photo near the door; your hair was a wreck, makeup smeared, and there were the faintest whispers of new bruises along your collarbone and neck.
The doorway was empty, as was the hallway.
Except for the box at the floor.
Despite giving a complete stranger your virginity last night, you had more sense than to bend down and open a foreign box. Clutching the robe at your chest, you began gingerly prying open the edge of it with your foot, wiggling your big toe underneath the fine cardboard until the lid popped off.
Inside, carefully arranged and wrapped in delicate pink tissue paper, laid a dress; a dress that was terribly similar to your own, but considerably more expensive. Atop it, a package of fine silk nylons. And atop those, in exquisitely elegant penmanship, a handwritten note lay. It read:
Thank you for a splendid evening, my dear. My deepest apologies about your dress — please accept this as a replacement. As for the flowers, it only seemed fair, considering the circumstances.
xoxo James P. March
You picked the box up, again checking the hallway to see if the deliverer was there. Still, empty. With a sigh, you shut the door, leaning against it. As you leaned there, holding the box in your arms, the corner of it digging into the middle of your neck, you winced at a sudden pang of soreness.
Your eyes drifted to the clock on the nightstand. “Nearly noon!? Oh, RATS!”
You pushed yourself off the door and changed hurriedly, throwing the robe off your shoulders and onto the floor. Mother! Mother would be furious and nothing was more terrifying than her rage. You’d rather be chopped up and filleted than have to deal with Mother’s anger, even as an adult. You pulled the nylons up as far as they could go without clips, and snatched the mink stole off the bed.
You threw open the heavy door and turned to your left, hoping for the best. You began running as quickly as you could down the lengthy hallway, barefoot. The straps of your shoes were hooked around your middle finger. With no markers, and no indication of where you were going, anxiety climbed your throat. Somehow though, after winding back and forth and up and down for what felt like hours, you managed to find the lobby.
As you emerged from the hallway, it was considerably less busy than last night. Where the band had been, waiting chairs and tables had been placed, a courtesy for guests waiting to check in. The cleaning team of the Hotel Cortez was marvellous, you had to admit. As you ducked your hips away from the edge of a chair, you spotted him. James March was leaned against the bar, chatting gayly with the bartender. The bartender nodded, swiping a rag over the spot directly in front of him. A glass of bourbon sat in front of James, perspiring. Much like you were. So it hadn’t all been a dream. He looked the same as he had last night, no hint of a hangover or fatigue. Just… charming. You inhaled and headed for the door.
“A perfect fit!” He called out from the balcony, his glass raised in a cheers. A few guests turned, searching for the voice. You jumped. The man had a talent for startling you — you’d give him that. You turned, your brows upturned in the middle, asking silently for clarification.
“The dress!”
“Oh! Yes! It does…. Thank you! It’s beautiful, Mr. March!”
“How’s your neck!?” He asked, lowering his head slightly.
The question threw you off. “….fine, but I really must be going, Mr. March! Bye!”
“Come back to the Hotel Cortez any time, my darling! As my guest.”
James watched you hurry out the door, knowing that if you did come back for a second time… it would be the last time.
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lanawintersenthusiast · 4 months
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eating disorder?
no bitch, im eating this order 😍
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nyrasbloodyclover · 10 months
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ok so hear me out...
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marchsfreakshow · 2 months
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Bloodthirsty And Lustful [James Patrick March]
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SMUT.
You're a stressed out writer, and came to the cortez, James has been helping you ever since you got here. Now, after a nap, he wants to ask you your deepest desires. Maybe even help you let go.
Warning; this is the most unhinged smut you will ever read from me. This just came out of a dark place in my brain cause of a c.ai chat lol. Thank you to @babygorewhore for being a beta-reader for this <3
Actual warnings!: you like blood. Like, you really like blood. (Reader is really unhinged in this, please bare with) descriptions of organs, bones, skin layers, grinding, switch!reader & switch!JPM, PnV, riding, James lets you take off his neck velvet. Crud smut writing.
18+! MINORS DNI- READ MY SFW WORKS
No one's perspective.
⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷
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James peered through the door to see you sitting on the bed, laptop on your lap, head in hands, and a pair of headphones thrown randomly across the room. You looked a mess, and James was worried you hadn't slept enough. Your novel had to be perfect! You needed to spend every moment writing! Every word needed to be up to standard. It drove you crazy and led you to fall asleep right then and there. Everything came crashing down when your headphones broke while taking them off. Instead of freaking out and crying, you just let out a sigh and threw them across the room.
The man stood there, staring at you while you slept, intently watching every unconscious move your body took. He wondered how on earth that odd device in your lap could cause you such problems. Wasn't it meant to make writing easier? Maybe so, but didn't stop the frustrations of wanting to write the next great American novel. It just worried him, and he kneeled by your side. Seeing how you breathed, how you gently gripped the pillow and your eyebrows furrowed together in frustration. A dream or nightmare of something that has stressed you out.
"James." You whimpered in your sleep. It made the man jump back slightly before he walked to the other side of the bed, sitting by your side. Worries were overtaking your wonderous dream. James wanted nothing more than to kill who was hurting you in your beautiful mind.
The night went on, and you woke up slowly at whatever time. You couldn't tell, and you also didn't care. James was sitting on one of the chairs, occasionally looking over to you. The curtains were always closed, and the door barely stayed open. Lights were on, but dim. Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, and the figure sitting in the chair was blurry. "Love, you're awake." He mentioned when he saw you sit up. You nodded in response. The ghost motioned you to come over, which you obliged despite not understanding much around you. Leather chairs were never comfortable. You were so comfortable in the bed, thinking about how to write, what to write and the deadline.
"What is it, James? I was so comfortable." Grogginess was the undertone in your voice, and you were unable to keep your eyes open. It felt like 2am or 3am. But what a ravishing man next to you. He sat up properly, posture still incredible even after death. Then you were curling up on the cold, leathery, old chair, hugging yourself.
"Dear...I want to talk to you."
"We can do that in the morning."
"No." His voice almost snapped and was rushed. "No...we're alone at this hour." Typical. The night was his favourite time to talk. Sure some people were still awake, but he knew how silent it was at 3am.
"Fine." You groaned slightly. "What did you want to talk abou-"
"Your desires. Your true wants, and needs." Sudden eye contact intimidated you and your sleepy eyes. Cue fiddling with your necklace, your own blood vial. The small amount of liquid rushed around in the vial, caused by your own finger. You never had anyone to do it with you.
You never said it creepily! All you asked your friends was if they wanted to share a blood vial because it was pretty. No one accepted. So you cut your finger. Your pinky on your non-dominant hand. It hurt, but only for a second. Seeing the blood slowly drip out, and the skin layers opening up so quick, it was invigorating for you. Opened up a deep fantasy, and morbid desire. One no one was ever told about. It was a secret to you, and maybe your stuffed animals. Was it that James was asking you to explore those fantasies with him? Impossible unless he could read minds. A secret fantasy like this always hid itself in the back of your mind, never to be found.
James noticed your darting eyes, your fiddling and laboured breaths. "Darling.." He trailed off, feeling your free hand softly, almost too soft. You felt the ghost-like touches (ha-) and your bloodshot eyes met his.
"James, you're..a murderer."
"...Well, yes. I have indeed told you that fact before. In fact, you were not as shocked as others. Humans are fascinating creatures." He chuckled, seeing the humour in your sentence.
Ah, a sentence that put you on edge. They are. Humans, with their layers, complexity. Humans with their need to have attention on them at all times, to create for others. All of it, it was all in your obsession. "Tell me about your interest my hummingbird. Nothing can be too much for me."
"Can I? Can I really?" You asked with a whisper, a slight glint appearing in your eyes. James nodded, and you immediately let loose. A dam breaking in half to bring in a flood. "Human bodies are so, fascinating." Your instant smile was almost manic like you lost your mind when your interest was mentioned.
"Medical shows seldom get it right. Scrubs does. They do it well."
"Have you, ever seen a body in real life? Not on these shows you mention?" James interjected. He wanted to ask you for details of your sick and morbid love for the dead. To see if his erection would get any harder. The thought of seeing you killing or exploring a body, covered in blood made James want to fall harder for you. Your crazy matched his crazy. Maybe more.
"No. It's...a dream though. Whether someone else cut open the body, or I cut them open...I've always wanted to dig around and feel what the organs feel like, hold a bloody bone in my hand..." You then go to bite my nails nonchalantly like you didn't just confirm your want for a morbid and murdering mind. He stared at you, something in his eyes. A sudden need to murder, and a flame of lust for you. Knowing someone shared his deep desires and could help each other, it made him want you more, But hid it with a breath.
"It's so fucking deranged! but the body is so complex. I want to study the tiny nerves and pick out the bones or organs I'm closest to. Having a fully empty body. Maybe even just having a skin and muscle body. It's just so, interesting." A sly smile reached you and almost made you giggle like a maniac. This sudden insanity made James light up.
"Come here." He beckoned you, and you submissively stood in front of him. But not 3 seconds later did he pull you down onto his lap, holding your waist. Gripping your skin, and nails digging into your sides. One more word from you about your loves, and he would have taken you right then and there. "You are, full of surprises my love."
Feeling him under you, you bit your lip and rested your head by his ear. "I bet your ghostly body is the most interesting. I wonder if there's anything different about a ghost body compared to an alive body." You gave in to what he wanted. He wanted to know everything. Every gory detail that your horrid brain could conjure up. Adding to your warm breaths on his neck, you gently traced around his chest, fiddling with his buttons, but never undoing them. Teasing James to hell and back.
James' breathing hitched slightly, before he took a hold of your face, and brought you close, noses almost touching. "Tell me. What else do you want to explore? Please."
You gazed at his lips before meeting his dark eyes once again, "Everything. I want to explode a heart. Maybe even open up organs, and see what makes a human tick. Take out the muscles, and bend them backwards. And, I want to knock open a skull. See what makes a human live. Unravel the brains, read what goes on." While talking, you occasionally moved your fingers to where you were talking, letting your fingers trace James' head and slicked back hair.
He shuddered as you moved around. Both his imagination and yours going crazy. You felt him twitch under you, and it was only a matter of time until he gave in to his lust. This urged you to carry on talking, to dig deeper into the fantasy that you forbade yourself from thinking about. "James?"
He whined out a "hm?" Eyes closed, and hands gripping onto the chair arms.
"give me a fresh body."
"wh.. what?" He spluttered before moving his hands around your torso. The way your soft skin moved in his hands, mouldable like putty.
"cover me in someone's blood. And let me taste the sweet iron on my tongue." The way you spoke felt sensual, and you ran your hands through his hair, the slicked-back threads being thrown in any and all directions.
It simply drove the man insane.
"Your wish is always my command my sweet bird." He was hungry. He wanted to devour your words while they were being choked out of you. He wanted to hear your cries for murder while he fucked you like nothing else mattered. "What, other things do you wish to see? How much depraved insanity can one handle?" James picked you up and almost threw you onto the bed.
First your shirt went, then your trousers. His clothing came next. "I have such an urge to kill. I want to see the way a human body dies." You sighed. His vest went in one direction, your bra went the other way. "How fire burns the skins and the muscles. I want to see a fresh slash open up the layers of skin. I want it all James."
The cold man on top of you hadn't even penetrated you, yet he felt like he was close to an orgasm. Hearing your insane wants and needs so close to his own. Using your depraved thoughts as a way to get him to fuck you was nothing but insanity. Craziness you could only tell him.
"I want to kill someone whilst you're inside of me. Is that crazy to want?" You confessed in a whisper, on your knees and undoing James' belt.
"Nothing is crazy my hummingbird. I'll happily oblige." He took your chin in his hand, doe eyes meeting his. The pure, slightly innocent look on your face made him closer and closer to bending you over and making you feel heaven. You reached your hand up to his velvet, but he hissed slightly and backed away. "Bunny..." He panted.
"I know it's sensitive, but can I see..it sir?" You asked, pressing kisses closer and closer to the wound that haunted James so. He felt frozen. You wanted to see something so, forbidden. Something he never let anyone see. Something that held a memory.
He took a deep breath before pushing his control back onto you. "My... you want something so...forbidden.." and you nodded intensely. He was only left in his velvet and boxers. Something had to go first, it had to be that dear fabric he wore so closely.
"I won't touch it, I promise. I just, fuck, I want to see neck layers, I want to see what nerves you had to cut for this to happen to you." You knew it was an odd choice, but he nodded after a few minutes of silence. He stiffened up as you reached behind his neck and pulled it off slowly. The man couldn't find words to describe the way he felt. Having someone be so, interested and obsessed with the way he died, almost wanting to have sex with him because of the fantasies they denied.
Your deep breaths felt warm against the cold cut, and you spoke before James had a chance to tell you to stop. "Oh, James. Oh, this cut is magnificent. So many layers..how much blood spilt out..?"
The question threw James off a bit, but nonetheless, he was happy to answer, getting closer to fucking you at every point. "More than you could imagine." He left his fingertips resting under your chin.
The words that left his lips almost tipped you over the edge, and you forced James to lie down on the bed. You were, once again, on top of him. This time, tugging at his boxers, and moving your own underwear to the side. Everything hit you like a freight train and you couldn't hold back anymore. Degenerate, depraved, blood fuelled sex. It was what you needed. To be filled by a killer you wanted to kill with.
Two pairs of hands unable to sort and fix themselves in one place, they had to move, they had to grip, scratch and trace. Two pairs of eyes focusing on eachother, unable to look away from the bloodlust you felt for the other.
It was rough, fast and hard. He moaned out for you louder than he had ever been before. You whimpered his name, desperate for a quick release. There were no other noises other than your lewd moans, until you stopped all of a sudden.
"Darling.." James whined slightly. Eyes slightly erratic, you held his face in your soft hands.
"I need you James. I need you eternally. To see you covered in the deep red of blood." The utmost eroticness of your words almost earned you a 'fuck' escaping from your partner below you.
Almost.
Instead he groaned, slapped his hands to your waist and thrusted upwards over and over. It was careless, but hard. Every thrust hit that perfect spot inside you, letting your eyes nearly disappear up into your head. Moans were practically screams.
The thought of seeing you covered in blood, waiting for him to take you made the man desperate. Everything everyone else couldn't be. He was getting close and even more desperate for both you to come at the same time. It drove you over the edge as you finished faster than expected, and you sort of wrapped your hands around James' neck, then laid down the best you could while he was still inside you. He chuckled darkly and thrust inside of you once more, earning an almost pornagraphic moan from you.
Feeling paralyzed, you adjusted yourself so you were simply just laying ontop of James. Silence was the best sound at that moment, and he kept his hands placed on your waist. "Mine." He smiled against the crook of your neck.
"Especially because of my deranged, bloody thoughts?"
"Especially because of these beautiful thoughts you have."
You supposed James was your murdering partner now, and would help you fulfill the fantasies you desired for. A gentleman, yet a physcopath who used the bodies of those he killed. Everything about him shouldn't be so, handsome and you shouldn't want him the way you do. But a murdering gentleman is someone you couldn't refuse.
⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷
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Tagging;
@fear-is-truth @nahoyasboyfriend @slvt4jamesmarch @taintandviolent @tatelangdonsweater @lvxybby
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coentinim · 14 days
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Sweetest Perfection...
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...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 (?)
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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"
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lees-bones · 1 year
Note
hii i <3 ur work!! could you please write a james march fluff pls!! thanks so much babe
thank you so much!! I absolutely love getting requests 🤭
VALENTINES DAY
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James Patrick March x F!Ghost!Reader
Summary: I thought why not make it some Valentines Day fluff since it’s coming up soon!
Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff
a/n: i am fucking IN LOVE with james, so im so so happy to be getting requests for him 🤭 he’s definitely in my top 3 ahs evan characters
-
You walked into your and James’ shared suite, taking off your heels and setting down your accessories on the table by the entrance. You called out for your husband, James nowhere to be found.
You heard shuffling in the bathroom, making your way over to see what the noise was. The closer you got, you heard the bathtub running and light illuminating from under the door. You twisted the doorknob, pushing it open, only to freeze in your place.
The space around the top of the bathtub was littered with candles, red rose petals scattered around the floor and some swimming around in the water. You looked up at the figure who had stopped moving in the corner.
“Dearest, you’re back!” James’ raspy voice was loud enough to echo through the room. “Cleopatra had went on and on about the day of Valentine’s and I thought to show you my never ending love for you, my dear.” He walked over to you, resting his hands on your hips. Yours moved up his arms, circling around his neck.
“You didn’t have to do this, James. It’s too much-“ He cut you off with a tsk.
“Nonsense, this day is about you, my love.” He took his hands away and made his way back over to the bath. He started unbuttoning his blazer, rolling it off his shoulders and folding it on the counter. Once he got rid of the rest of his clothing, he held his hand out for you. “Come on, darling, join me.”
You stripped your clothes, letting them fall to the cold floor. You took his hand as he helped you into the tub. You leaned forward to let him sit behind you. He pulled you up on his lap, wrapping his arms around your bare waist. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the way it moved up and down as he breathed.
“You are absolutely striking, dear. The moment you stepped into this hotel in ‘26,” he sighed on delight. “I was absolutely struck with your beauty. You, Mrs. March, are the absolute best thing to happen to me. You are the most ravishing woman to step onto this godawful earth.” His hands moved up to smooth over the water and bubbles on your arms. He pressed kisses to your wet shoulders, leading up to your neck. You sighed in content, letting your head rest back against his shoulder. “Ease yourself, dear, let me take care of you.” He whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss to it.
-
Once James was done washing you off, you dried yourself with a towel as James went out into the suite with just some boxers and a robe that hung off his shoulders.
You tied a red silk robe around your body, tying the knot tight. Your hair was dry enough because most of it wasn’t placed in the water. “Sweetheart, where did you go?” You say loud enough for anyone in the room to hear. You step outside of the bathroom doorway, leaning against the side as you looked around for your husband.
Your eyes stopped once they landed on his broad shoulders, his arm reaching out to pull the lever for the gramophone to work. It played soft, classical music through the tube, filling the empty space in the room.
“Ah, dear,” He turned around and walked over to you. He put his hand out for you to grab and kissed your knuckles when you obliged. You smiled at his politeness, your smile being reciprocated by your husband.
He put one hand on your waist and held the other that was already holding your hand. You put your hand on his shoulder, slowly moving up to cup the side of his neck. Your thumb rubbed back and forth, slowly relaxing the both of you.
James started to rock back and forth at a slow pace, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. You smiled in content, moving your body with his. Your breathing was even, your shoulders were relaxed, your jaw was unclenched. You’ve never felt so relaxed before, until now. James always had an affect on you, but tonight was different. Tonight was about comfort, about ease, to unwind.
“You’re radiant when you’re happy, dearest.” James broke the beautiful silence (with the exception of the hum of the music). “This exact moment reminds me of our first dance, back in ‘27.” He reminisces, closing his eyes as if he was imagining it. Your smile gets wider, watching your husband open his eyes again and make eye contact with you. He has a warm smile before he leans down and presses his lips against yours. It was sweet, loving. It felt like being wrapped in hug, the warmth of it making you feel safe.
When you both pulled away, James took his hands away and moved them to cup your face. “You, darling, are the most enticing woman. As soon as I laid my eyes on you the day of the opening of this dear Hotel, I knew that I had to have you. Everything about you is absolutely captivating and it captures my attention in mere seconds. Everything that you are.. is everything that I could’ve asked for in a lover. You are my goddess and I truly worship the ground that you walk on, my dear.”
The water in your eyes threatened to spill over and once it did, James immediately caught it with his thumb.
“Oh, dearest, do not cry. I didn’t mean to upset you-“ You kissed him, cutting him off. He paused for a second, before quickly returning it. You both had to break apart when you both started smiling widely.
“I love you, James.” You whisper to him, your faces just inches apart.
“I love you more, my dear Y/N.”
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gothiccortez · 1 year
Text
waiting like a lonesome queen
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james march x f!reader
summary: you’d always known hazel evers had a bit of a jealous streak when it came to mr. march, but you never thought she’d act on it.
wc: 3.5k
warnings: violence, blood, murder, etc. its jpm so that’s expected.
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The evening had been calm—much too calm for your liking, considering what was to come. Tonight, was the first Halloween party you were throwing since the opening of the Cortez, and you’d been restless about it all week.
Despite the suggestions from James to let someone else take care of the planning, you’d wanted to be in control of the situation.
It was also a celebration of your husband’s birthday, after all. That led to a few fitful nights of rest, hoping you’d gotten all the details correct.
“Mrs. Evers?” you glanced at her in the full-length mirror of your bedroom, watching as the woman struggled with an armful of unclean linens. “Would you mind fastening the straps of my dress? I can’t seem to get them.”
You’d been struggling with the straps for the past few minutes as the older woman watched passively. It had taken you weeks to decide upon a Halloween costume for the party, and of course, James had wasted no time in getting the best tailor to make one for you. It was an elaborate outfit; one you certainly couldn’t have put together on your own.
Hazel Evers stared back at you with disdain as she threw the sheets on the floor with a great sigh. Despite the simplicity of the request, it appeared to cause her much grief. “Well… Alright.”
You frowned as she shuffled towards you, clearly put out. The fabric curled into your fists as you gripped it a little tighter, narrowing your eyes. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your task. I can just wait until James comes back up if—”
She seemed to pick up her pace after that, upon you in an instant. “There’s no need for Mr. March to be concerned with such trivial things,” she huffed, doing the straps up quickly. Your costume was together in moments. “He’s got the party to attend to, after all!”
That brought a laugh out of you as you stared at yourself in the mirror, straightening your attire. “Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t be too bothered. He is my husband, after all.” You met the woman’s eyes through the mirror, almost pitying her sullen expression. “And the party was my idea, wasn’t it? I should be there as well.”
“I’d almost forgotten that!” she said, feigning delight. Although, really, you knew she hadn’t forgotten at all. “I’m sure it will be quite a wonderful affair, what with it being Mr. March’s birthday and all. He’s invited quite the collection of individuals.”
“Well, he’s never been one for meager displays.” You smiled, though it had grown tight. The tension between you had escalated in the moments after mentioning your husband, and the object of Mrs. Evers’ desires, James March.
It hadn’t taken you long to pick up on her affection towards him, despite James’s calculated ignorance. The way she was constantly at his beck and call, bending over backwards to grant his wishes made it all too obvious. The same treatment extended to you on the occasion that James was around. But the moment he stepped out of the room, leaving the two of you on your own, Mrs. Evers did nothing for you without a loud sigh and unconfined lethargy.
You’d never brought it up to James; you’d never felt the need. She was a loyal minion, and though she made it clear your demands irritated her, you figured she’d never do anything to disrespect you or interfere with James’s work. The moment she did so would be the moment she lost him completely.
Just as you were about to begin a new conversation, tired of the glare from the other woman, James approached, his voice drowning out all other sounds in the room.
“Darling, are you almost ready? The guests will be arriving soon.”
Mrs. Evers bristled for one moment before he revealed himself, smoking languidly as he waltzed into the room. His eyes glued on you immediately, tracing every line of your body as he took in the state of your attire.
“Yes, I’m all done here,” you said, turning away from the mirror to face him. “Does it look alright?”
“Alright?” James grinned, closing the distance between you. He cupped your jaw with his free hand, staring at you intensely, the passion already so alive in his eyes. “I have half a mind to cancel the party just so I can have you to myself for the rest of the night.” His face flashed with something dangerous. “But perhaps I’ll allow the rest of Los Angeles one evening to see how utterly beautiful you are, my dear.”
Your face broke out into a wide smile, heart already racing as he met your lips with his own.
“You flatter me too much, James,” you said, but the two of you knew you secretly enjoyed his effortless praise and lingering glances.
“Well, I’d simply hate for you to forget what a marvel you are.”
You laughed, pressing your lips to his cheek with delight.
Everything between you was so easy. You’d almost forgotten that there was another presence in the room. Mrs. Evers let out a small squeak as she bumped into the armoire, the sound reverberating through the space of your bedroom.
There was an immediate shift in James, the serenity of the moment evaporating. He stepped away from you, but left one hand on your waist, keeping you close. The irritation in his eyes should’ve been unnerving to anyone on the receiving end.
“Don’t you have elsewhere to clean at this present moment?” he shouted, a lock of hair coming undone from his outburst. “Out!”
Mrs. Evers just accepted his wrath with indifference, nodding. “Of course, Mr. March. I just thought I’d tidy up your room for you while the guests are here.”
“Well, if I’m not mistaken, for the time being, this room is otherwise occupied!”
“James, it’s alright,” you said, tugging him towards the door. “We should probably be going downstairs, anyway. Leave Mrs. Evers to the sheets.”
He blinked back at you, as if coming back to himself under your soft gaze. “Yes. Right as always, my love.” He took one last glance at his loyal assistant, straightening his hair and attire. “Just finish up what you’ve got to in here. We’ll need you downstairs for the party.”
“Yes, Mr. March.”
You rolled your eyes. She could’ve at least tried to hide her infatuation with your husband from your intelligent observations. “Thank you, Mrs. Evers. You’re such a great help around here.”
Kindness wouldn’t win her over, that you knew. But sometimes, you felt a little sorry for her.
★──────────★─────────★
“How do you stand it?” one of the women, the wife of an esteemed politician, asked you with shock. It was clear she was trying to get a rise from you.
Her blond hair was curled up with pins, red lipstick contrasting her pale features. The excessive makeup was compensation for her bland attire.
You turned, nearly forgetting that you’d been involved in the conversation at all. She’d spent the past twenty minutes telling you about her newborn baby, barely giving you a chance to speak.
“Stand what?” you asked curiously, taking a sip of whatever was in your glass.
She laughed, clearly mocking you, and the high-pitched screeching grated against your ears. “Well, all the women gawking at your husband, of course.”
You turned, following her gaze across the room to a hoard of young women, not much older than you, who were all eyeing James like vultures.
“He’s rich, he’s handsome, and he’s young.” She gave you a once-over, sniffing. “And you’re such an… unassuming thing. I’m sure most women would think it easy to remove you from the picture.”
“Is that so?” you stated absentmindedly, staring at James just a few feet away.
He was chatting with another man animatedly, though when he felt your eyes on him, he turned, meeting your gaze with a wink of his own.
“Well, I can assure you that is an incorrect assessment,” you said to the blonde. “I trust James wholeheartedly.”
She laughed. “Alright, sure. I’d love to have that much faith in my own spouse.” She watched James briefly, studying his movements as if trying to uncover his hidden desires.
It would never happen, that much you knew. James kept his secrets close to his chest.
“The point still stands. In a few years, you won’t be so young. Perhaps he’ll start looking for someone else.”
The statement sent a hot flash of anger throughout you, burning to your very soul. Your youth certainly wasn’t escaping you any time soon.
“Right. Well, if you’ll excuse me.” You nodded to the woman, desperate to get out of her presence. Without another word, you turned, heading over to where James was standing.
When he noticed your approach, he brightened, outstretching his hand to welcome you into the conversation. The other men were not so pleased by a woman intruding on their less than intelligent ramblings, but James was indifferent.
“Ah, gentlemen. You’ve yet to meet the lovely Mrs. March, have you?” James said, placing a hand between your shoulder blades lightly.
You smiled politely and introduced yourself by name, shaking the gentlemen’s hand like a seasoned professional. Within moments, you’d charmed them out of their original contempt. They were quickly engaged in your apt storytelling, hanging onto your every word.
Be it because of your beauty or your intelligence, you didn’t care much. As long as you could grab their attention, any means would suffice.
“What a girl you’ve got there, March.” One of the older men clapped him on the back a little too friendly, laughing like they were old mates. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind sharing?”
The words were starched. A dangerous look flashed through James’s irises. One you recognized all too well. The outcome was never fortunate for those on the other end.
“Fortunately for dear James, I am quite fond of making my own decisions.” You grinned, leaning into him for an added effect. “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline, sir.”
That sent the men into a garish laughter which you had anticipated, only serving to irritate the man beside you. You felt the tension rise in James, the straightening of his back. He hid his anger well, but you picked up on it easily.
You were nearly certain that at least one of the men would not make it out of the hotel alive.
Moments passed, and though you tried your best to stay engaged, you grew weary of the frivolous conversation. The night had already felt so long—the week even longer.
You stifled a yawn, though James caught it immediately.
“If you wish to retire early, I don’t mind in the slightest.” He said to you under his breath, glancing at the darkened shadows under your eyes.
You’d worked so hard to make the party happen that you’d almost grown too exhausted to enjoy it.
“It’s alright, James. I should stay down here until the guests leave,” you said, though you were barely able to suppress the second yawn that came out of you.
“Nonsense. Who knows when half of them will be leaving.” James glanced over your shoulder, meeting the eyes of someone across the room. He snapped his fingers idly. “I’ll have Mrs. Evers walk you back upstairs, and then I’ll accompany you shortly.”
“There’s no reason for me to—”
“My dear, you are positively fatigued. I’m only looking out for your best interests.”
You considered arguing, but James was insistent. With a soft exhale, you relented. “Alright. But there really is no need for me to have an escort.”
“There’s no telling what sort of degenerates snuck in here when we weren’t watching.” He’d pulled you away from the other gentleman without you even noticing, giving you an easy escape route.
You smiled lazily. “Some might argue you’re a degenerate yourself.”
“Nonsense, my love. What I do is much more refined. It’s an art.”
You shook your head. Before you could rebuttal, Mrs. Evers was upon you, a ridiculously starry look in her eyes.
“You called, Mr. March?”
“If you could just escort my darling wife back to our room. I’ll be up not a moment later.”
“It’s really not necessary.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Evers bowed her head, and you sighed, expecting nothing less. “Come along, Mrs. March.”
She only called you that when James was around, and it was with a bitter taste on her tongue.
The man seemed satisfied by her response. He began his final rounds across the room, bidding farewell to the guests.
With another yawn, you followed Mrs. Evers to the elevator. It was almost comical that she was leading you through your own home. No one even spared you a second glance as you headed up to the next floor. The accompaniment was more than unnecessary.
“Did you enjoy yourself this evening?” Mrs. Evers asked, standing beside you in the small space of the elevator. You were surprised that she cared at all.
“I did, thank you for asking.” You smiled to yourself, beginning to pull your hair loose from its intricate styling. You were already away from the public eye. “Although, it seems I’ve worn myself out.”
It was then that you noticed that despite her earlier questioning, Hazel wasn’t really listening to you in the slightest. It seemed her mind was preoccupied, whirling around something unrelated to your eventful evening.
“Is everything alright, Mrs. Evers?”
“Hm?” she said, but after a moment, she snapped back into alertness. You’d reached the door of your bedroom. “Oh, yes. I suppose I’m just tired myself.”
“Well, you work so hard,” you said, more to yourself than anything as you unlocked the door. “I should tell James to give you an extended vacation ”
“No!” Mrs. Evers’ exclaimed, and you blinked at her in shock as you let yourself into your room. “It’s alright; I’ve no one to vacation with anyways. I’d just spend it here, wondering why I wasn’t working. The Cortez is like home to me.” 
She laughed, though it sounded a bit crazed, like she wasn’t entirely there.
“Alright.” You shrugged, used to her inconsistent behavior. Mrs. Evers followed you into your room, and you let her, expecting her to do another sweep of tidying up. She was obsessed with the cleanliness of every corner—another attempt to impress her beloved Mr. March.
As Mrs. Evers stalked around, you returned to the mirror, paying her no attention. With your hair free from its confinements, you began removing your jewelry, undoing the straps of your shoes. The makeup still felt caked upon you, but you would worry about that last.
“Mrs. Evers? Sorry to ask again, but would you mind—” You cut yourself off as you met her gaze in the mirror, watching as she pointed a revolver at your head.
Your reaction was so swift you’d barely registered your movements. Before you knew what was happening, she had pulled the trigger, firing at the place where you’d been only moments before.
The bullet hit the mirror, shattering the glass, and you screamed. Shards flew from the blast, digging into your arms.  
Blood trickled down to your palms, and you panicked as Mrs. Evers aimed to take another shot, her hand shaky.
“Wait, please,” you said, holding up your bleeding arm in defense. You did a mental scan of the room, trying to remember where James had hidden all of his weapons. Surely there was something for you to defend yourself with.
“Why should I?” Mrs. Evers said, though you could sense her resolve was crumbling. Her plan was less than prepared. “This is the perfect place to hide a body, to cover up a murder.”
“You think James won’t know?” you said, desperate, trying not to cry from the pain in your arm. “He’s no fool. He’ll know the moment he returns.” You took another step forward, hopeful that she wasn’t paying attention to your movements. “You think he’ll ever forgive you, ever want to be with you after you murdered his wife?”
Mrs. Evers blinked, eyes watery with irrational tears. Her jaw tightened, though you could see the cogs in her head churning, her spur of the moment decision breaking down.
“I know you’re in love with him, Hazel.”
The gun lowered slightly.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not,” she said simply, clenching her jaw.
“I am. Despite what you may think,” you said carefully, trying to imagine the words that she would want to hear. “I’m sorry that you’re not completely happy here. You deserve someone to love you just as you desire.”
A beat passed. You’d thought you’d won her over.
“It’s simply not right,” she said, her jealousy making itself evident in every soured word, every tear that wet her cheek. “I’d do anything for him. I’d die for him.” She raised the gun again, aiming right between your eyelids. “I’d kill for him.”
You froze. Even with your subtle movements across the room, you hadn’t made it to James’s dresser. And you should’ve known Hazel would anticipate the movement. It was likely she already knew James kept another revolver there.
“Don’t do this—”
Your sentence was cut off, but not by the sound of a bullet firing.
“Mrs. Evers, I’d advise you to put the gun down.”
Over her shoulder, you met the furious wide eyes of James March, his entire body shaking with rage. You hadn’t heard the door unlock, hadn’t even heard him come in. Yet there he was, appearing at just the right moment, your dutiful savior.
You could’ve collapsed, relief flooding through you.
The other woman whirled around, the gun dropping to the ground with a loud thud as she gasped histrionically. “Mr. March,” she exclaimed, staggering forward. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
His eyebrows raised into his hairline, scowl deepening. “No? What else could I possibly deduce from the gun fallen from your hand?”
Mrs. Evers stumbled over her words before crying out, relenting the truth as you fumbled miserably with your wounds.
“I’m doing you a favor,” she pleaded, falling to her knees before him in a prayer. “You don’t see it now, but you will. She’s leeching off of you, Mr. March. I’d be so much better for you. We both know it. Please, please.” She was rambling, her words nonsense as she begged the very devil she’d once assisted. “Forgive me.”
“Forgiveness can be earned.” James said, laughing darkly. Not a hint of amusement was in his voice. “But after you’ve tried to commit a murder in my hotel? Tried to steal the life of my beloved and affronted her very name?” He unsheathed a blade from his cane, the silver of it gleaming in the moonlight. “No, Mrs. Evers. I don’t think I’ll forgive you at all.”
“Mr. March!” she pleaded, gripping at his clothes, though he shook her off in disgust, upon her in a moment. “It was only a momentarily lapse in judgement!”
“A shame,” he said, frowning. “You really are an astonishing laundress.”
You watched with horror as Mrs. Evers accepted her fate, the blood splattering from her throat as James slashed her neck. She fell forward, grasping at the wound as she struggled for a final breath, a pool of red welcoming her home.
James stared at his handiwork, judging the mess for a moment before he was back to you, crouching down to meet you.
You’d fallen to your knees, finally able to catch your breath. Tears fell down your cheeks without you even noticing, the pain and anxiety catching up with you. Never had you expected that Mrs. Evers, whom James had trusted wholeheartedly, would betray you in such a manner.
“Darling? Are you alright? Are you bleeding elsewhere?” James gave you a once-over for any hidden wounds as you stared at the lifeless body of Mrs. Evers, still grappling from shock. When he came away with nothing, he placed his hands against your cheeks, cold palms bringing you back to him.
The worry in his deep brown irises calmed you. It was sometimes difficult for you to rationalize the vicious man that he was with his tender moments towards you.
“Should I fetch a doctor?”
“No, I’m alright I just…” You trailed off, sniffing as you wiped the black-stained tears from your cheeks. “I never expected…”
Your features contorted, the anguish warring with the hatred you now felt for the woman.
“She betrayed us. After everything we did for her.”
“She did,” James said, smearing the makeup on your cheeks as he wiped away your tears.
“James, how will we get the stain out of the carpet now?” You glanced at your husband, distressed. Everything blurred in your mind, a fog, though the man before you was unbothered.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head, my dear.” James wiped the blade of his knife with the pressed handkerchief, kissing you between your eyebrows as you gripped the lapels of his suit. “I’ll tear out the entire carpet, if needed. Let’s just dispose of the body without drawing the attention of any lingering guests.”
1K notes · View notes
vintage-marina · 1 year
Text
"I know what you did."
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summary: you found out what he's done
f!reader, but it isn't really specified
angst
TW: SA, school shooting basically everything what Tate did, fighting, screaming
words: 1103
@dreamsweetener
"He," pausing for a second you looked at Violet with a haunted expression. "He did what?"
With sad eyes Violet looked at you, the two of you standing in the guest room. Her foot was constantly tapping on the ground, her hands clammy. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Y/N."
She took a step forwards, she noticed the silent tears on your cheeks. Blewing out the air of your lungs you tried to calm yourself, a small sob left your body and before Violet could prepare herself you threw yourself in her arms.
"I should've told you earlier," she mumbled. Her chin was leaning on your shoulder, both you and Violet were holding eachother for 'dear life'.
"It's not your fault." reassuring her you stared blankly at the wooden closet. "I'm glad you told me although it's a bit late."
The both of you fell still, knowing that in the silence the both of you still held eachother dearly. The gears in your brain started working, with each passing second you became more and more angry at Tate.
"I think I have to talk to him, Vi." Slowly you let go of her, unclasping your hands from her vest.
"What are you going to say to him?"
"I," you wiped a few tears away. "Don't know."
"Don't do anything stupid, okay? Pinky promise me."
"I promise," the both of you hold out your pinkies and clasped them together.
Taking some deep breaths you left the room, anger following in your trails. Your heavy footsteps echoed through the house while your breathing was ragged.
You had to find him.
With an agressive swing you opened the door, to his old bedroom (that was now yours). The room was clattered with your clothing and make-up, your walls decorated with pictures and posters, but the room was empty. Letting out a huff of frustration, you slammed the door shut.
Realisation dawned on you that he probably knew what Violet had said, he must have hid himself. A few curse words left your lips and you pulled your hand over your face in frustration.
What the hell, Tate.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
You have to be calm if you want to confront him, why did he have to shatter your heart like that? Slowly you opened your bedroomdoor again and stepped in your room, when you closed it you let your head hung on the door. A deep sigh escaped your lips and a soft sob followed through.
A deep sadness clung in your chest.
You slid down on the ground, your mascara was smeared on your cheeks and with shaky hands you tried to wipe the tears away. For a long, long time you sat like this.
Zoned out, you stared ahead of you.
Headache already forming.
"Tate?" You called out with a hoarse voice. "Please I-we need to talk."
Ignoring your call, Tate tugged at his hair while he mumbled inchorent things. Tears streamed on his cheeks and he sunk on his knees, you were going to leave him.
"Tate!" He heard you crying out, his dead heart shattered at the voice cracks. Why did Violet said something? At the thought of her name, a few more tears fell down.
Buring your head in your hands, your shoulders shook.
Was Vivien in pain during the act?
What did Tate say to his victims?
Were they in pain when they were murdered?
Is he going to hurt you too?
You were getting scared of him.
"Please don't leave me, Y/N," was all that you heard. You looked at him with tears in your eyes, his hair was all over the place and his eyes bright red from his cries. His hand tried to reach out for you and he walked towards you, trying to pull himself in your embrace.
His way to calm himself.
"Stay back," you said with all the strength you could muster. You couldn't trust him anymore. "What?" His face was full of disbelief, more tears brimmed up at the edge of his brown eyes. "Why?" Voice small he stared at the ground, watching his teardrops fell on the wooden floor. What he thought to himself was true, you didn't want him anymore.
Quickly you scrambled up, your arms clung protectively against your midriff. "Why?" you said slowly almost in disbelief. "Why Tate?"
He nodded and a small "yeah" escaped his lips.
"I don't," you took a deep breath and wiped with your hand your tears away. "I know what you did."
"I didn't mean to!" He screamed in desperation, waving his hands erratically. "You have to trust me, Y/N!"
"But I don't Tate! I don't!" you screamed back at him, with half swollen eyes you looked mistrustful at him. "You-you probably don't even regret it," a coldness was in your eyes.
Locking his brown eyes with the cold eyes of yours, he got goosebumps. Anger and panick flowed in his veins and in one swift motion he held your wrist, "That's not true."
You held your mouth firmly, seeing the stormy haze in his eyes you shrunk away. Violet hopefully was nearby, incase things went south. The storm was getting darker and darker and in frustration he screamed: "That not true! You know that's not who I am!"
Tears were still flowing on his cheeks and he shook at you, while his grip was getting stronger and stronger. Flinching you tried pulling your wrist out of his hand, "Let me go Tate," you mumbled voice barely a whisper.
But he didn't, he didn't let you go.
A grunt of pain escaped your mouth and your lungs went wheezing after the impact your back had on the wall. His hands were now on your shoulders and he sobbed in despair that he did regret it and that you shouldn't leave him.
Your head was trobbing and you whispered tearfully: "I don't know you anymore, Tate."
Brown eyes widening, he realised something that you didn't know. He knew you were afraid of him, "You know," his voice cracking slightly while his trembling hand cupped your cheek. Noticing the hitch in your breath, he saw you were trembling too. "I would never hurt you, ever."
You fluttered your eyes, closing only for a moment. Shaking off his hand of your cheek you embraced him while your heart was thundering in your ears. The blond boy melted in your arms and before he could pull you even tighter you whispered at the shell of his ear: "You just did."
"What?" He said again, he began sniffling. "When?"
You shook your head and your hand grapsed the doorknob, "You don't even realise it."
He watched in defeat when you walked out of the door, he didn't follow you. When he saw you leaving the ground out of the window, he curled himself up in a ball and cried in frustration.
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evanpeterswhoresblog · 9 months
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Office Secrets
Luke Cooper x f!reader
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TW: smut, p in v, unprotected, fingering… lmk if there’s anything else lol
Word count: 1526
Friendly note, I wrote this all in one day so it’s probably not the best but I’ve been so obsessed w Evan lately I just needed to write lol Enjoy!!!
~~~
“So, who wants to bet the two newbies are doing it?” Meredith says as she puts coins into one of the vending machines.
“They so are,” Kevin says. “Have you seen the way they look at each other it’s like- Pam and Jim.”
“Hey!”
Angela shakes her head. “You people are disgusting… but I wouldn’t doubt it. I’ve seen them flirting on multiple occasions.”
“This is all circumstantial, it doesn’t mean they’re sleeping together,” Oscar argues.
“I would bet they are,” Phillas says with a laugh. “I mean I remember how fun it was being all secret with Bob, it’s so thrilling.”
Pam glances at you in the annex, Luke’s leaning back on your desk, smiling as you two talk. She looks back to the group and shrugs. “It’s possible they are.”
~~~
“Hey y/n, do you think you could make some copies for me?” Pam asks as you’re walking by.
“Yeah of course, double or single sided?” You reply with a smile.
“Double please.” She hands you the original.
You walk to the copier, but as you’re about to open it, Luke slips in front of you.
“Luke I was about to make copies,” you say, annoyed.
“So do I, you aren’t the only person in the office who needs to get stuff done,” he laughs.
“Since when have you ever had things to get done? You’re the laziest person here.”
“That’s hostile,” he replies, turning around to give you a smirk. “I might have to report you to HR.”
“Just please hurry up,” you mumble.
“Anything for you babe.” He winks.
You turn to the camera and stare, almost at your limit with this boy.
~~~
“I just don’t understand men sometimes it’s like, he’s so different when we’re alone yet in public he wants to be the biggest ass ever,” you rant to the camera, you’re in the hallway near the elevator where no one will hear you. “Sometimes I just want to knee him in the balls and get on with my day.”
“If he’s so annoying why do you sleep with him?”
You frown. “He’s really good at that stuff, most assholes are honestly.”
~~~
You’re at the vending machine getting a snack when you feel arms snake around your waist. You quickly turn around and push him away.
“Luke stop it we can’t be doing this here,” you whisper.
He looks out the windows then back at you. “Nobody’s around, come on just one kiss. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since last night baby.”
You and Luke were hired about three weeks ago now, both just interns to help out with the little things around the office. At first you thought Luke was an idiot slack off, but after a week of him constantly flirting with you, you decided he wasn’t that bad of a guy and of course he’s gorgeous. And, after one night where he gave you a ride home this simple work crush turned into casual sex.
You made Luke promise to keep it a secret, you didn’t want anyone at the office to think your personal life would interfere with you doing your job. So, far you don’t think anyone has figured it out, and your glad.
“Don’t talk like that here,” you say, giving him a slight glare. “We made a deal.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I’m serious Luke, imagine if Michael found out. He’d make it a whole thing.”
“It probably already is a thing, Jim and Pams was.”
You scoff at him. “Okay, that doesn’t mean this has to be.”
“Whatever,” he says as he begins to walk away. “See you later.”
You give an annoyed look to the camera and shake your head before returning to your previous activity.
~~~
“Listen, y/n is a good girl I guess, I just wish she’d stop acting like the office finding out about our thing is the worst possibility imaginable,” Luke tells the crew outside the break room.
“What do you think would happen if they found out?”
“I don’t know, they’d give us weird looks. It doesn’t really matter it’s not like me and her are gonna be working here forever. At least I know I’m not, not sure what her life plans are.”
~~~
You stare at the clock and sigh, still a whole nother hour left at the office. This whole day has been terrible, mostly due to Luke. You don’t understand why he’s acting so annoying today. Usually he’s decent toward you, probably because of what he wants from you the second work ends. You turn back to your desk and start to organize papers, deciding Luke isn’t important.
A few have passed when Luke appears beside you. He leans back on your desk, one of his hands gripping the edge. You try to ignore him, keeping your attention on the stack of paper you’ve been messing with. Luke doesn’t let you ignore him forever though.
“Can you come with me somewhere where we can speak privately… away from the cameras.”
You look up at him. Is this it? Is he really going to break it off at work? You can’t believe it. You want to give him a piece of your mind, so you slightly nod and get up, following him out of the annex and down the hall to one of the stock rooms. You’re ready to start giving it to him but before you can he smashes his lips on yours.
At first, you’re caught off guard, he’s never kissed you at work before. You don’t hesitate to kiss him back however. He backs you up till the back of your legs hit a spare desk. You let him guide you onto it, your kiss turning into something more.
He bites down on your lip, his hands roaming up and down the sides of your body. You have to admit, you’d been craving this too. Even though you saw each other last night. Luke was the best you’d ever had, how were you supposed to not want him again? Even though he’s been annoying you all day you can’t help but melt into the palm of his hand, he’s just so damn attractive.
“Luke, we can’t do this at work,” you whisper, the sensible part of you taking over.
“Nobody will know, come on baby, I’ve been thinking of you all day. I need you,” he replies.
Your stomach fills with butterflies at his words. He knows exactly how to persuade you. You fall back on the desk as he kisses down your neck, Your legs wrap around his waist, he makes you feel so good. He brings his lips back up to yours as one of his hands starts to slip up your skirt and under your panties.
He starts to rub small circles on your clit; you to moan into his mouth. He smirks against your mouth. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, you love the feeling of his body against yours. It’s the best you’ve ever felt.
“You’re already so wet baby,” he mumbles on your lips.
“Luke,” you moan.
“Do you want it baby?”
You nod, moving one of your hands down to rub the bulge in his pants. He grins at you and removes his fingers, beginning to undo his belt and fly. In seconds you feel his tip brushing against your entrance. He leans back over you as he begins to slowly thrust inside of you. You bite down on your lip and close your eyes, the familiar feeling of him filling you taking over.
You throw your head back as he starts fucking you. The sound of the desk hitting the wall doesn’t even register in your head. You’re too engulfed in how good Luke’s dick feels inside you, hitting that special spot that makes your legs shake. His head rests in the crook of your neck, he’s moaning and whispering all the dirty things he wants to do to you. It’s all too good to be true.
Eventually though, you feel that tightening in your stomach, your orgasm approching. Luke must realize this because he doesn’t stop his violent thrusts for even a second. You hold on to him tightly, biting down on his clothed shoulder as you finally cum. He finishes with you, pushing himself so far inside you he’s hitting your cervix.
He lays on you for a few seconds before pulling himself up enough to look down at you. His chest is still heaving as he speaks in a soft voice, “I really like you y/n.”
“I really like you too Luke,” you say with a weak smile.
Both of you get yourselves decent fast, you’ve been away for at least fifteen minutes by now. You give Luke one last kiss before exiting the small room alone, he promised to wait a minute or too before following.
As you sit at your desk and resume your previous activities, Luke walks by you, sending a quick wink before disappearing into the main office. You give a small stare into one of the cameras, your face turning bright red. This was only the beginning.
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nahoyasboyfriend · 2 months
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Tonight you are mine
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Warnings: somno (James is a freak,) very slight dubcon, brief mentions of cutting you, written with the intent to be afab reader but there's no penetration, thighjob, James being a perv.
Word count: 839
A/N: hii! I'm so sorry if there's any errors. I didn't proofread, and I'm not the best writer. I also don't write smut often so I'm sorry if it's bad. Despite that I hope you enjoy it.
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James had come later than usual, and normally you're sitting in your shared room waiting for him. Greeting him with a low, "hello James." While looking up at him with tired eyes and a soft smile. Today you were snuggled up in bed, back facing him, completely unaware that he even came in. He shed his coat and gingerly peeled the cover off of you. You were wearing one of your skimpy sleep sets. A white camisole and a pair of matching shorts.
You always looked divine, but being wholly oblivious to the world made you irresistible. You were completely vulnerable. His hand brushed over the exposed skin of your thigh, and you stirred slightly but remained asleep. A heat began igniting within him. You were so soft— so pliant. He half expected to see the indent of his hand when he pulled away. Unfortunately, it wasn't there, and James thought about seeing the skin split instead. The idea of deep red blood staining your body brought a grin to his face, although that would be saved for another day.
For now, he unzipped the fly of his pants, and pulled down his underwear just enough to allow his cock to spring to life. A fat dollop of precum beading at the ruddy tip. He shuddered, and wrapped his hand around his length. His hand began working at a steady pace, occasionally running his thumb over the slit. A low groan tumbled out of his throat, and his eyes flit over to you. He expected you to rouse, to rub at your sleepy eyes and ask him what he was doing, but you didn't. You were still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the debauchery happening next to you.
This elicited a louder groan from him, and he realized he couldn't take it anymore. He needed something that wasn't his own calloused hand. He needed something warm, and that's exactly what what you were. He laid down next to you, shuffling closer, and the heat radiating off of you was addicting. He wanted to bite you, to rip the clothes off of you and take what he wanted. He refrained, only because you're so enticing when you sleep and he wanted to enjoy it as long as he could.
It seemed like even unconscious you were a tease. Your legs were practically glued together, and he's certain if he moved them to get access to where he wished to be most you'd wake. He knitted his brows together, pushing his lips into a thin line, contemplating what his next move should be. Then an idea struck him. he made quick work lining himself between your thighs, and the precum still coating his length would hopefully help lessen the friction. He didn't rush to get to the part he was waiting for, deciding to tease himself. He slowly thrusted his hips forward, and although it ached from the lack of real lube. The discomfort was gladly welcomed.
You murmured something unintelligible, and attempted to shift your body as if to change position. This was swiftly thwarted when James pressed a firm hand on your hip, forcing you to be still. He was finally getting an ounce of relief and he couldn't have that ripped away. Not now. He was just starting to have his fun. His arm wrapped around your front, holding you in place to prevent any attempts to run away. He started fervently rutting into you, uncaring if he woke you now.
Throaty growls and muffled grunts tumbling out of him as he worked himself to relief. Your entire body is jolted forward with every snap of his hips. You wake up confused, and the slick feeling of something sliding between your thighs only worsens your frazzled state. "James," you call out, your voice hoarse from lack of use. The sound of your hushed voice yanks a whine from him. "finally awake, my dear. Don't mind me, go back to sleep," He hums, pressing a kiss to your nape.
You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut when you reach an understanding of the situation, "you couldn't wait until I woke up?"
"not when you're so alluring when you sleep," he muttered, the feeling of his breath against your skin making you shiver. His pace had mellowed out, signaling his imminent release and a part of you wishes you were awake to help him from the beginning, but that's now in the past and all you can do now is lay here while he uses you to get off. A few minutes later, he came in thick ropes, shamelessly grunting in your ear as he rode himself through his orgasm. It runs down your thighs in rivulets, and slips down onto the mattress. Any other time, you'd get up to wash yourself off, but today you lie there.
"When you're ready please wipe that off of me, I don't want to wake up dirty," you huff, feeling the soft waves of sleep overtake you again. He chuckles at your request, pressing another kiss to your shoulder this time, "Of course, my dear."
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missuswalker · 3 months
Note
i love your interactions between reader and quickie soooo much omg. would you be able to write something where either quickie or reader are being super needy and the other is just like amused by it/teasing/making fun of them for it idrk im bad at requests ahh
𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 || 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
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༄ summary: you do your best to subtly hint towards what you want to do with peter, but he knows you too well and catches on fast (he thinks he’s the funniest man on the planet
༄ warnings: smut, teasing, piv, fingering, oral (fem receiving), lack of protection 🤡(great way to come back after a month)
༄ notes: WHAT ILY AND THIS (has anyone picked up to the fact that the notes are literally just me interacting with the anons) (also i missed you guys 😘)
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peter never really could sit still, it was something you’d quite literally never seen. even in his sleep, he would roll around, kick you, sit up abruptly, or just mumble. that was why you weren’t surprised that he payed you little attention, though he’d been the one to invite you over. he stood in front of his (awfully loud) pac-man machine, eyes fixed on the screen, hands moving quickly to keep himself from losing. to be completely honest, when he called, you’d expected to get dicked down as soon as you stepped foot in the basement.
yeah, that hadn’t happened.
while it was sweet that he just wanted to be in your presence, you wished that he would, at the least, pull himself away from the game that kept his attention longer than you did. you knew it wasn’t anything against you, he just wasn’t typically a ‘sit down and hang out’ kind of guy. while that could be the case on occasion, he preferred to hop around his room like he’d never been in it before.
standing from your place on his couch, you make your way behind him, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist. he doesn’t even flinch, eyes flickering across the paths of the pink and blue ghosts. “hey,” you say, resting your head in between his shoulder blades, the skin of his back bare warm, shirt having been discarded hours ago. “hi,” he responds, letting one hand come back for a split second to gently brush against your arm.
you sigh, giving a quick eye roll. you weren’t annoyed with peter, more annoyed at the fact that he hadn’t picked up on any of the hints you’d dropped. except he absolutely did. he knew exactly what you wanted, but he was playing a game. he wanted to see how long it would take for you to just say that you wanted to have sex. he always thought it was funny how you’d beat around the bush until he gave in, but this time, he wasn’t going to just hand it to you on a silver platter.
pun intended.
“will you be done soon,” you ask, tone sickly sweet. he did his best not to snicker at your desperate attempt to gain his attention, keeping his face forward. “if you want me to be,” he answers, purposefully losing the game. he turns around and wraps you up in his arms, kissing the side of your head. after a few seconds of silence, he pulls away, hopping over the back of the couch and landing in a laying position, turning on the tv. you follow, crawling into the tight space between your idiot boyfriend and the couch.
“what do you wanna do,” he hums, flipping through channels of shitty tv shows. “i dunno,” you shrug, trailing your fingers down the side of his arm. he cranes his neck to look at you, eyebrows raised. “you can’t think of anything?” you could hear his smirk in his tone of voice, it dawning on you that he definitely knew every move you’d been making. you scoff, smacking him upside the head. “you asshole,” you laugh, shaking your head. “what? i didn’t do anything!” he defends, a silly smile on his face as he covers his head.
when you’d finally figured out that this had all been some sort of game to him, you could feel yourself growing a little bit embarrassed. “peter,” you groan, nudging him. “what?” he asks, the smirk from before still there. you simply blink at him, pursing your lips. he was really starting to piss you off, but at the same time, it made you need him even more. “if you don’t want to do anything, i’m gonna take a nap,” he says, getting more comfortable.
you throw your head back and internally screaming at him. “peter, stop being a dick. just… please,” you huff, shaking him as if he’d already fallen asleep. “please what? please have sex with me because you’re so sexy, funny, and strong? is that what you were going to say?” he teases, turning around to face you now, that shit eating grin you were so used to making its way onto his sneaky face. “no, i would never say those things about you,” you say, deadpanning.
“oh, okay. goodnight, then,” he says, shutting his eyes and dramatically pretending to snore. “no, no, no, peter,” you whine, smacking his chest. “just admit it and i’ll wake up. i know you want me, you don’t have to be so stubborn, it’s not like i blame you. i am pretty damn sexy,” he says, not moving an inch. “oh my god, i hate you.”
you had expected him to just give up, open his eyes and let you have it, but he didn’t, adding to your frustration and the dull ache in your core. he was being mean, purposefully, and it was getting you riled up, despite how much it pissed you off. “fine, i want you, peter, please, i need you,” you sigh, voice monotone. he keeps his eyes shut, though his eyebrows raise as if to say, “try again.”
“okay, you win, i need you, just fuck me.”
his eyes fly open, smile never wavering. “wasn’t so hard, was it?” he snorts, sitting up. you were now in his spot, peter hovering over you, a hand by each side of your head. he peppers your face with kisses, a hand coming up to push your hair out of your face, lips finally landing on yours. “can we speed this up a little bit? you’re supposed to be super fast, aren’t you,” you say, silently begging him to just slam into you. “little desperate, but if that’s what you want,” he jokes, grinning against your cheek as he reaches under your (his) long shirt, fingers hooking in the waistline of your panties and sliding them down your legs, holding them up like a prize.
“very cute, have i ever told you how much i like pink?” he hums, stalling just to aggravate you. upon seeing your unamused face, he stuffs the underwear into the pocket of his sweatpants. spreading your legs open to get a better look, laughing at the sight before him. “you’re already wet? i haven’t even touched you, yet.”
if this man didn’t just move on already.
like he could sense your thoughts, he wasted no more time, sliding a long finger into your near-dripping cunt, finally giving you a sense of relief. with you letting out a heavy breath, his eyes find yours again. “all this just from thinking about me?” he asks, sliding another finger in, slowly dipping his head under your tshirt, lips connecting with your attention deprived clit. “you’re an asshole,” you grunt, hand finding his silver locks. he chuckles against you, the cool breath from his nose tickling your warm skin.
“you’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” he groans, pulling his hand away and sucking the slick off of his fingers. his hard dick pushed at the fabric of his sweats, wanting so badly to escape its confines. “i might just need you more than you need me,” he huffs, sitting back against your shins, untying the strings of his pants and pushing them down his thighs, briefs following. once they’re down his legs, he strokes himself, the sight of you looking so pretty making him twitch.
“peter, please.”
you’d lost count of how many times you’d said that in the last few minutes, but you didn’t have time to count when you were so close to getting exactly what you wanted. “i know, i know,” he nods, pushing your shirt up and moving your hand to tell you to hold it. he tugs at your bra a bit, just enough to let your tits spill out. he leans down, placing a sweet kiss to your stomach, looking up and giving you a wink, before gently pulling your hips up. “turn around for me,” he instructs, turning you around. hands still on your hips, he pulls them upwards, your ass in the air.
scooting up behind you on his knees, he places one kiss to your ass, pumping himself, and lining up, head of his cock pushing into the folds of your pretty pussy. once he’s all the way in, he thrusts in and out slowly, one hand on your hip, the other on your asscheek. “faster,” you mumble, face pushed against the couch cushion. “you sure?” he teases, but listens, picking up his pace.
his room felt humid, the slapping sounds of your skin meeting filling your ears. he practically rams into you, your loud moans making his hips stutter. “shit,” he whispers, reaching down to rub at your clit with rough fingers. “oh my god, peter,” you whimper, reaching back for the hand that was on your ass, squeezing his fingers. the tight squeeze of your cunt when you came made him lose his steady rhythm, burying his cock deep inside of you. his release fills you up, his fingers finally intertwining with yours, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into the back of your hand.
“didn’t know you needed me that much.”
“do you ever shut up?”
“not that i know of.”
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i’m back hello 😻💋 feel free to continue to request, i’ll be writing again 🎀 try not to be so vague yall i have one that quite literally only says “smut pls” 😞
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taintandviolent · 22 days
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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.
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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
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l0serloki · 1 year
Text
Showtime
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JPM x Reader
Summary : You and Liz brainstorm how to spice things up in the bedroom with your husband.. It is a definite success.
CW : SMUT, fem!reader, reader calls james ‘mr.march’, spanking, choking, praise kink, pet names (queen/doll/dear/good girl), biting & marking, rough sex, creampie
A/N : this might not be great but I was rewatching hotel and his cane gave me ideas... 
It had been quite a while since you and Liz had a talk. You settled down to gossip with your close friend. 
“Y/N, it’s been a while. I thought you would have forgotten about me.” Liz smirked.
“How could I ever! I’ve just been so busy with James and the new.. arrivals. Devil’s Night was such a chore.” You droned on, complaining about how much screaming there was over the course of the night.
“Well that’s to be expected. How are you and James anyways?” 
How were you and James? You were fine, splendid actually, but something seemed off. You had thought about it quite a lot this week, coming to the conclusion you needed something to spice up your sex life.
“Good! I just.. I don’t know.” You shrugged and Liz gave you the side eye, setting her book on the counter.
“You don’t know? Darling, are you alright?” 
You nodded as she took your hands, giving them a tight squeeze.
“Yes! Don’t worry! I just want to.. spice things up with him. I feel as though he will get bored of me. I want to get something nice for him but I can’t think of what.” 
Liz tapped her lips with a pen, her eyes raising as she thought of an idea.
“Y/N, have you ever worn any fancy lingerie for him? Maybe put on a little show?” 
Your mind sparked with the idea and you shook your head.
“No! Where would I even get that? That would be perfect.” 
Liz waved you away from the kiosk, already getting to planning.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get you a nice set to surprise your dear Mr.March.”
Liz had done exactly what she promised, going out and buying quite a lovely lingerie set for you. It framed your body perfectly, only adding to your confidence. You slipped your casual clothes over the garments, making your way down the hall. You knew James would be busy with his plans for next year's event.
Your fingers curled around the doorknob, opening it to meet your husbands face. You jumped at the proximity, not expecting him to be so close.
“My dear! I was just coming to fetch you.” His smooth accent sailed through the air, sending currents down your spine. Your finger trailed at his suit hoping to give him the same reaction. 
“Were you? Guess I have good timing then.. Mr.March.” You trailed around his form, hands feeling up the taut muscles. His body shook with excitement from the teases, hands coming to clamp down on your wrists.
“Yes.. It seems you were longing for me as much as I was for you.” His suave smirk made heat pool in your stomach, hands starting to roam your shirt. Your breath quickened as his fingers trailed under the the material. His eyes widened when he pawed at the lace that was hidden.
“My my.. What is it that my dear doll has on?” He frisked away at your shirt, abandoning it on the floor without a care. His chestnut hues wracked in the sight of your ample flesh dawned with the silky lace. His wild smile only added to your carnal desire, making you tremble with pleasure.
“You like it? It’s all for you, Mr.March.” 
His deep hum filled the silence. 
“I do, dear. This is quite the surprise. Step out of those pants and bend over so I can see the whole thing.” His voice was dark and filled with lust. You knew exactly where this was headed. 
You followed instructions, popping your ass out so he could get the full view of your body. You felt as if you were on fire. His eyes followed your every curve, searing it into his memory. His rough hand gripped at his cane, holding back at what he wanted.
“You’ve given me such a good present, my pretty girl. I can’t believe you would hide this from me. I think you deserve a punishment, no?” 
You could only moan in response, desperate for any kind of touch he could give you. He seemed to like your response, shoveling you against the desk. Your perky ass was still stuck out for him, waiting for his move. You waited for what felt like forever until a long smack hit. Your breath left your mouth as you shook, your ass cheeks swelling against the wood. The metal tip of his cane brushed at your entrance, prodding at the wet spot on your panties.
“Someone enjoys being spanked with a cane? What a naughty girl..” James laughed, your squirming not going unnoticed. His hand smacked against your sore cheek and you bounced at the contact.
“Be good and take a few more. Then we can get to the fun part.” 
You nodded as he continued his assault on your ass, tears welling in your eyes at the pain and pleasure. Your body was practically screaming for him, arousal pooling on your thighs. 
His cane hit for the last time and then he was everywhere at once. His greedy hands yanked at your ruined panties, revealing your poor pussy. 
“God. I need you!” You moaned out as his fingers teased across your thighs, coming dangerously close to your entrance. His thumb pressed against your slick, making a mess of you. He toyed your clit, rubbing at it a few times before puling away. You groaned at the loss of contact, turning to see why he had stopped. James fumbled with his belt, hands jittering with energy. He gave you a grin, lips licking at the arousal on his finger,
“My queen, you’ve been so obedient tonight.. I shall give you what you wish.”
James’ cock rubbed against your folds, slowly pushing in. It felt as if everything else faded as he bottomed out, his calloused hands coming to grip at your neck. His thrusts gained pace as your moans got louder, alerting anyone near his room of what you were up to.
He was animalistic. Lips biting and marking at your skin, smacks blown across any flesh he could reach. His other hand choked you out, watching from the side as your eyes grew larger.
You felt your air leaving as his pace went erratic, the string inside you so close to snapping.
“I-I’m gonna cum. So close, baby.” You strangled out.
James snarled, his hands rough enough to leave marks for the next few days. His cock twitched inside of you, egging you on.
“Cum. Cum for me, darling.” He goaded and you did as told, eyes rolling back at the euphoria he gave. His ruts finally stopped and thick ribbons of white filled you. 
You spun around and snorted at your husbands tired face. He leaned in to kiss the top of your nose, hands pulling you into an embrace.
“That was a night to remember, dear. We should do this more often.”
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