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newwavesylviaplath · 2 days
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hbd @bluerthanvelvet444 <3 i hope u like it!!
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fear-is-truth · 1 day
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𝑳𝑬𝑻 𝑴𝑬 𝑩𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑫𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 ⴰ༢ ୧
── being kai anderson’s manipulative girlfriend hc
tags: fem! reader. nsfw + sfw. kai is a warning himself, you aren’t any better though (manipulative behavior.) talks of murder, sex
taglist || masterlist
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☪︎ ִ ࣪my friend said that this hc sounds like how she’d imagine my relationship with Kai. kind of a low blow but also the best compliment ever so.. no complaints
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your ability to see through his lies and manipulation frustrates him to no end, as Kai was accustomed to everyone doing whatever he told them to
you won’t follow every single order Kai gave you, unless you think it’s feasible. most of the time, you operate on your own terms
your independent activities would annoy Kai, as he prefers to maintain control over all activities in F.I.T
however, once he recognizes how your actions benefit the cult's agenda, his fury would give way to reluctant admiration
as his girlfriend and second in command, you hold a delicate position in the cult - dangerously close to the centre of power and yet somehow the safest, as your connection to him gives you some degree of protection
any cult member who annoys you? good as dead. you’d find a way to frame them or make Kai get suspicious of them
he hates it when you boss the other cult members around, but also secretly thinks it’s kinda hot
Winter would have mixed feelings about you. she thinks you’re cool but she’s also lowkey afraid of you because you remind her of her brother sometimes
you’re the only one who can keep Kai in line (sort of)
but you’re also capable of making him worse. and vice versa (couple goals)
he puts a tracker in your phone, which you found out and dismantled it
pinky power is completely pointless
it’ll be personal contest— who’s the better liar? you two have the best poker faces
you were the first one to drink the “poisoned” kool aid. risky move but worth it
you carry a bottle of Adderall for Kai at all times. he even trusts you enough to let you administer the pill directly into his mouth
ways to manipulate him
kill for him. that’s an instant hard-on
feed that ego. you praise his leadership skills, intelligence and charisma, deepening his belief in his own superiority
mother him. wash his hair when you shower together. assist him with shaving. lay out his clothes for him. make him manwiches
behind the guise of nurturing gestures, every act of practical care serves as a small manipulation, reinforcing his dependency on you while gradually asserting your influence over him
you’ll have him wrapped around your little finger
councilman at day, clown at night
you’d play a crucial role in his election campaigns, acting as the perfect arm candy to bolster his public image
in public settings, you display affection in subtle yet very calculated ways:
holding hands, staring into each others eyes, sharing deep kisses— strategically timed for the cameras to capture
and the media would eat it all up
it’ll enhance Kai's image as a loving and passionate partner
you were the one who came up with the staged assassination stunt
Meadow was getting too close to Kai, and it irked you. so you planted that idea into Kai’s head, and he put it into action
Meadow got laid and then died, Kai got elected councilman, and you have your man all to yourself.. win-win-win situation!
wear a sexy clown outfit that comes with a corset and shows cleavage
it will distract Kai and piss him off because he has to maintain his dignity as a leader while trying to hide his raging boner
violence also turns him on; Kai likes his girls crazy. be the harley quinn to his joker
incorporate deadpan humour. during these fucked up situations, gotta lighten up the mood with disturbing and witty remarks
nsfw headcanons
Kai would ask you to seduce more followers into joining the cult
and the hypocrite would get so jealous, even though it was his idea
sex will be bomb though. he’d put in extra effort to prove that he’s superior
you give each other hickeys, lots
needless to say, you’d be the sub. that’s basically the no.1 rule in your relationship
better to squeeze a few tears during sex. it’ll fuel his ego, big time
if you’re giving him head, gag on purpose
he tells you that once he becomes president of the U.S, you’d be First Lady and he’ll fuck you in every single room in the White House (132 in total)
needless to say that you’re going to be the perfect mother of his messiah baby
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a/n: i’m actually a sweetheart, don’t listen to my friend. oh and buzz-cut kai can rail me
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TAGLIST @acidbrainstorm @evanpetersmybf @alittlesil @kaiandersonsdevotedwife @ellaaaaa44 @newwavesylviaplath @warrenlipkaswife @slvt4jamesmarch @kaismanwich @maddaline @evpeters87 @lacucarachapisser @howtobesasha @nickrhodeslittledarling @bluerthanvelvet444 @r8ttenapples @nahoyasboyfriend @kai-slut @lak3cityqui3tpills @coentinim @doll3tt33 @taintandviolent @babygorewhore @stveharringtn @violet1737 @sukirosiac @slutforgarlogan @90sbr1descake
 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.
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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?”
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etheral-moon · 2 days
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It's unhealthy ik <3
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yandereunsolved · 1 day
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Dissect Me, Doctor - ,, yandere JPM with a psychologist reader
cw(s): yandere themes, dismemberment, suggestive themes, (James) necrophilia, noncon touching, cannibalism, mention of reader having breakdowns & panic attacks
✧ James found you by God's hand one fateful day. You could say it was more than a mere coincidence, eh? He had just finished killing one of the hotel guests. He was about to call Miss Evers in to clean up the mess when he spotted something sticking out of the dead gentleman's breast pocket. He plucked the card out of your pocket and read it allowed, 'Doctor...' His curiosity was the least bit piqued. Psychologists weren't exactly popular in the 1930s. The true study of the mind hadn't emerged, but James had always lived to study humans. To study their fight or flight instinct, how their bodies react to various torture methods, and how fear affects the human psyche. Perhaps he has found someone who shares his fondness for such things. It would be a great way to meet someone new. Considering Elizabeth refuses to speak with him, he has grown desperate. Not even defiling his killings tapered his already suppressed desires. 
✧ He got Sally to teach him how to use this magic witch named 'Wi-fi' who owns the internet—or something like that. Most new technology is just rubbish used to get people to make inauthentic connections. Although perhaps just this once, it can be used for the betterment of his temperament. He has Sally schedule an initial appointment at the hotel. Sally uses the excuse that James is bedridden and terribly ill (non-contagious), but he hates telehealth and just wants someone to talk to in person. You were skeptical because of the rumors surrounding The Cortez, but you were in desperate need of another client, and he was willing to pay extra—a lot extra.
✧ You had your first session in his room, and you immediately got strange vibes from him. He wasn't ill, that was for sure. Perhaps he was a little pale, but he probably hasn't gotten enough sun or vitamin D lately. He was even smoking! He was sitting all relaxed on a couch, dressed up in 1930s-esque attire, with a cane leaning against his lap. He introduced himself as James Patrick March, and you immediately understood why you were called. He either has a personality disorder or is a compulsive liar. Perhaps both. You asked him simple questions, such as his real name and when he was born. You were only getting nonsensical answers. He could not have been born in the late 1800's or early 1900's; that is ridiculous! 
James only felt himself grow hotter with each question you asked. It was like a fire had been lit beneath his skin, and he needed to put it out. Then you asked the question that really got him going.
"Since you refuse to use your real name, I'll just call you Mr. March. How is your personal life going? Are you currently sexually active?"
"I have peculiar interests and refined tastes. How do you modern people phrase it? 'Where there is a hole there is a goal'?"
✧ With that astounded expression on your face, he feels his urges compell him to end this lovely conversation early. That look would look perfect on your dead corpse. He takes the sabre out of his cane and tries to slit your throat; he narrowly misses. Somehow, you unlock his room door and bolt through the hallways. How promising. He walks through the winding hallways slowly. You scramble to find the exit, and he struggles with not just outright chasing you through the maze. No, he must preserve the hunt. After what feels like an eternity to you—only eleven minutes in real time—you finally trip over a stair and hit your head on the railing. Talented fox. You nearly escaped to the lobby. You are too much of a challenge to let go so easily. He's going to keep you to get his release. In more ways than one. 
✧ You wake up in the middle of the night in the same room as before. It's freezing, and your clothes are nowhere to be found. Your head is pounding, and you are barely able to breathe. James drugged you with some cocktail of drugs—some legal, most not. You feel blades ghosting your body. You feel them just barely slicing into your skin. It must be sleep paralysis, you rationalize. Something whispers sweet nothings into your ears. You are barely able to discern what those words are. 
"You taste... a dream."
"Never leave."
"The best prey— never leave me."
✧ You drift off once again before groggily waking up in a different room. You are still in the Cortez, now in room seventy-four. You feel much different today, weighed down and yet free. You don't have any marks on you that would indicate you were harmed last night. You feel the need to escape, but you are also incredibly confused. A maid is in your room, setting down a new set of clothes. She explains that you passed out after you tripped on a stair while leaving the session early. You accuse her of helping the strange man you interviewed who tried to kill you. She chuckles and says that you aren't his type. Her voice has a little bit of spite in it. That was the moment that you were introduced to Miss Evers. Quite possibly the only person who simultaneously envies you for getting all of James attention and pities you for your lack of self-awareness and intelligence in the situation.
✧ Before you are even able to shoo her off this JPM impersonator comes in your room and greets you. You are naturally apprehensive. He is naturally enthralled to see that his trophy prey has awoken. He cannot wait to just see how you react today. You try to leave and he explains that you never finished your session. You accuse him now of trying to murder you. He brushes it off and insists that you at least have breakfast with him before you leave. You are about to answer firmly when Miss Evers folding of a towel loudly snaps together. This 'James' scolds her and she gives him a doe-eyed look. Before you are even able to say no he is ushering you down the hallway in silken pajamas someone put on you while you were passed. The thought makes you shudder.
✧ You both were served a hearty and delicious breakfast. It isn't very filling to you, no matter how much you eat. It must be how queasy you are from yesterday. If it happened. Perhaps you had a mental break due to all the stress you have been through lately. You don't get a lot of time to think because you are snapped from your thoughts. This James speaks about your future together and how you will have a long and fufilling relationship. He asks you to give him a psyche evaluation. When you say no, he subtly threatens you with the thought of not paying because you didn't actually fill his full session. You reluctantly agree.
✧ He's both incredibly frustrated and intrigued by your persistence. How many times must he explain to you that he isn't a 'cosplayer' or someone with a personality disorder. He is simply the great James Patrick March. No matter. It will make you even more fun to play with.
"Your delusions, doctor, are clouding your mind. So I suppose I will have to make you see the truth—one way or another."
He sets up small 'challenges' to see if you can pass them. He wants to test how long your mental fortitude will hold up. 
✧ The first of those was dismembering himself in front of your very eyes. He does it multiple times, and they are all random. He will pluck his eye out and stir it in his tea. He will cut open his chest and stuff his organs into your suitcase. He will remove whatever is covering his neck and finger from his suicide wound. He asks if you would like to feel it, stroke it, touch it, or play with it.
"Doctor, I understand you only deal with the human mind, but would you like to feel this and assess if it is real? Do you believe me now?"
He will stab himself in the heart during one of your sessions and tell you that this is what you do to him. In the most extreme cases, if he isn't getting your coveted attention, he will take himself apart limb by limb and place them on your bed like a cross.
✧ You begin to come to terms with the fact that, at least, this man is psychotic. Perhaps not a ghost, but definitely a killer and wickedly sadistic. You try so many of the phones in the hotel, but so many seem not to work. You try to find your way out once again, but you seem to be trapped within these walls. Which comes to one of his many other tactics: trapping you in The Cortez's hallway maze. He is able to distort the minds of his guests and make sure that they never get out. Like a rat trying to find an escape from a box maze that has no exit. He enjoys just slowly walking behind you and taking in your panic and your quick breaths when your clothing rides up on you. He is able to take a respectful peek at what he will inevitably see time and time again.
✧ He keeps you trapped in the hotel. You never even have a chance to get to the lobby. He has a nice breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you. He has his daily sessions with you. Outside of that? His torture. All of his torture. All of it. He threatens you with it subtly if you do something that he is displeased with. He'll even lock you in that death closet of his and make you stand right near the spike. Sometimes you prefer to be in there because you can hide from him. He likes it when you hide in his death traps. So he totally leaves you alone and totally just doesn't sit right outside your ability to view him.
You are coming to the point where those times when he is cordial are the times you crave. All part of his plan, of course. Although—he hopes that you will keep up the chase, he likes that fiery spirit of yours.
✧ You often find him getting release from his dead victims. You know because your relentless cycle of agony and pleasure stops. At least he doesn't force himself on you when you are awake. You end up doing your best to stay as far away as possible from him during that time. Only you always end up stumbling into the same room as him. You avert your eyes, yet he always has something cheeky to say to you.
"Ngh—darling, darling, wait! This.... this could be us. This could be me. You and me. Nothing could be a replacement for how your flesh feels against mine."
He always turns around and gives you one of those godforsaken winks of his.
✧ That isn't the only time his victims come into play. You are always suspicious of the food he serves you. It's either drugged or the meat could be made from his victims. You first learned that the hard way. You were served meatloaf, and James called in manloaf. He stated that it was made in this very hotel by the very guest who was trying to help you leave. You wanted them so bad, you can have them—in your stomach.
✧ Not even the Countess is able to help. Not that she tries. She is too busy luring more men in. She's forgotten about James mostly, except for the betrayal. She gives you a few warnings and some caution when she can. You are almost like one of her children. Perhaps she would help you if you really were in need. Maybe.
✧ You still get those sensations in your sleep. The feeling of fingertips ghosting on your figure. How the sheets seem to slip off your body. A warm presence keeps you close throughout the night. It often manifests in such strange dreams. It feels like James's thoughts are being injected into your own mind. You dream of him against you—sometimes he is brutally murdering you, and in others he is sensually caressing you. He always seems to tease and taunt you with those tantalizing images in your mind.
✧ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ — You often have panic attacks and breakdowns because of him. Your heart rate quickens as sweat rolls down your body. Your legs shake and give in. The entire hotel seems to spin around you. You have to seek him out for your own comfort. It's so twisted and vile. You can feel bile rising in the back of your throat when it happens. You almost have to crawl on your hands and knees to reach him. Yet, it feels like heaven. His skin is so soft and supple. His suit is always made of the most comfortable materials. His body is always so cool to the touch. In those moments, your body melts into his. That is, until your mind stops its dissociation long enough to realize the trauma you were going through. You are falling for him—a classic case of Stockholm syndrome. You couldn't stand for this. You need to fight against this, against him.
✧ Unfortunately, your non-belief in ghosts stops when you see multiple people you thought were dead trying to warn you. You see your patient, who was killed in this very hotel. They tell you that they're so happy to see you. They are so happy you are here with them. You have to put on your therapist hat again and calm them down. It all clicks. Other people you thought were guests here were warning you. You are being oddly welcomed into the space. The others are cautious of your presence and afraid to upset the owner, the one who holds so much power over them. That strange being that seemed to flicker in and out of your peripheral occasionally. You finally make peace with the fact that James Patrick March is indeed a ghost. You really do need to escape here.
✧ You steal the hotel's shipping schedule for their toiletries and linens. You make a plan to escape. You think you are so clever, and it really makes James hot under his white buttoned collar. He lets you think that you are so much more astute than him. It makes him a little desperate, but he won't show it. He needs your touch so badly. He needs you to love him so badly. He needs you to be his little trophy victim. He needs you to help him chase his highs. He needs you. He needs you. He needs you. You, only you.
✧ He confesses his undying adoration for you and clings to your waist as you try to walk out. He sighs and tries one more tactic before you step out the door. He promises to tell you the entire truth. You are caught off guard by this, and your hand slips off the door. He leads you to his trophy room and shows you his 10 Commandment killings. He directs you to the corner, where your body lies. You are covered in wounds that have long since dried out. Your eyes are lifeless. You have his name etched across your naked chest. You scream, shout, and sob. James gently holds you and soothes you even as you thrash, kick, and gnaw at him.
"You've been trapped here the entire time. Since that night."
As if that makes it any better. You aren't that stupid. You could connect the dots—lack of appetite, coldness, the odd sensations, everything. You are stuck with this monster for all eternity.
"Hmm, yes! I saw you and just knew that I had to have you. Have you gotten my diagnosis yet, my love? It's lovesickness, and your body is the cure."
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⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @etheral-moon @fear-is-truth @marchsfreakshow @girlyfart @nahoyasboyfriend
.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐
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coentinim · 1 day
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James making you suck off his gun. Fucking your mouth with it gently.
"Close your eyes, dearest, do you not trust me? Oh, but what if my hand does slip, hm?"
You'd feel sooo dumb, having your mouth used by a murderous weapon, the thrusts putting you into a trance...
Would he even unload it beforehand?
@fear-is-truth
Mdni
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evanpetersbf · 3 days
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by the way.. he’s mine
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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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kaiscumsock · 8 months
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early 2000s evan peters <3
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⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ ⋆
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wh0re43van · 4 months
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Boyfriend (Warren Lipka X Reader)
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Summary: you reunite with an old friend while making a delivery for your shitty boyfriend
Word count: 4.1k
Warnings: smut, throat fucking, weed, cheating, not proof read
A/n: I have no idea how much weed costed in 2003 bc I was two years old. Also, I apologize if your name is Chelsea bc you will be slandered in this fic. Thank you for reading! <3
Pt 2 , Pt 3
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I slam my boyfriends shitty car door, stepping out into the cold November rain, running towards the brick house, an 8th of weed shoved in my bra. I can’t believe my idiot boyfriend is too lazy to get out of his car to make his delivery. I’ve never even met this customer and his dumbass is having me waltz right up this random man’s house, while he’s parked a block away.
I pound on the wooden door before stepping back a bit. I shift back and forth on my feet as I rub my hands up and down on my arms trying to warm myself with the friction. After a couple of minutes, the door swings open, a man with unkempt brown hair and tired eyes steps out, looking a bit surprised. Those eyes. I know them. I cant put my finger on it, but I know him from somewhere.
“Uhm can I help you? Are you alright?” he asks, stepping out onto the porch closing the door behind him, looking me up and down, maybe trying to figure out why some strange girl is stood sopping wet on his doorstep, or maybe he recognizes me as well.
“Of course that dumbass didn’t tell you,” I sigh. “I’m delivering for Dakota,” I explain, pulling the plastic baggie out of my bra.
“Ah, okay,” he opens the door again, ignoring my hand offering the weed. “Why don’t you come in, get out of the cold?” he offers, holding the door open for me. I consider his offer; He seems kind, and he doesn’t appear to have the money on him anyway. I might as well wait inside while he retrieves it before I catch my death out here.
“Thank you,” I smile, stepping into the warm living room, part of me hoping that Dakota can see me going into the random man’s house. He leads me down to the basement, explaining that this is his bedroom.
“Make yourself at home,” he smiles, showing two familiar dimples on either cheek as he gestures to his couch. I smile back, happily taking a seat. He walks into the bathroom, coming back with a towel in his hand.
“Did you go to Tates Creek Highschool by chance?” he asks, offering me the grey bath towel.
“I did,” I smile. “Only for freshman year though, my family moved the next county over after that,” I explain. That must be where I know him from.
“Y/n, I thought that was you,” he smiles taking a seat next to me.
“Yeah,” I smile back. “You look familiar, but I’m sorry I can’t remember your name,” I blush, a bit embarrassed that I don’t remember him.
“Ouch,” He chuckles. “I thought getting detention together for stealing the teachers’ cigarettes would have been a bit more memorable,” he says, leaning back on the couch. Then it dawns on me.
“Warren?” I ask, shocked. “Little Warren Lipka?” I turn on the couch to face him, getting a better look- the best look I can get in the dim yellow lighting. I don’t believe it! He laughs at my reaction.
“I guess if you remember me as little Warren, I can see why you didn’t recognize me,” he says, reaching for his grinder and papers laying on the coffee table. “You got that 8th, beautiful?” he asks casually. I blush at the comment, pulling the weed out of my bra once again. I hand him the warm baggie.
“That’ll be 7 bucks, sir,” I grin. All the memories come flooding back to me when our hands touch as we exchange the substance for the cash. All the classes we skipped together, all the many hours in detention we spent alongside each other, the cigarettes that we would smoke under the bleachers. He was shorter than me then, he always had his hair buzzed and wore oversized clothes to hide his small frame. I guess he was a late bloomer, because the only remnants of that little boy are the deep brown eyes and dimples displayed like artwork on the handsome grown man in front of me.
“You look really good,” he breaks me out of my thoughts, sparking the joint he’s just rolled.
“Thank you,” I smile. He passes me the paper. I take a hit. “You look good yourself,” I exhale through my nose, handing the joint back to warren.
“So you’re a friend of Dakotas?” He asks, after sucking in a breath of smoke as he stretches his arm over the back of the couch and behind my shoulders.
“His girlfriend, actually,” My response catches him off guard, making him choke on the smoke.
“Holy shit,” he laughs in between coughs. “How the hell did that goon bag you?” he asks, flabbergasted. I can’t help but giggle, taking another drag off the joint.
“Sometimes I wonder the same thing,” I answer honestly. Dakota isn’t exactly the best boyfriend in the world. We’ve been dating almost two years and I’ve caught him with other girls multiple times. He doesn’t respect my boundaries or my aspirations, yet somehow, he always convinces me to stay. I guess when you’re as attractive as he is and as insecure as I am, it isn’t hard for him to convince me that he’s the best I’ll ever have.
“So what’s wrong with Dakota? Why couldn’t he make the delivery himself?” Warren asks, looking down at the joint between his lips as it glows crimson. “Not that I’m complaining,” he clarifies.
“He said he was tired and didn’t want to get his shoes wet,” I laugh, feeling the THC start to take effect. “Can you believe that?” I ask, laying a hand on warrens thigh in my fit of giggles. “He’s just sitting in his shit box a block away,” I say, feeling my eyelids begin to get heavy. Warren raises his eyebrows, looking at me with glossy eyes.
“Wow,” he scoffs. “I actually don’t believe that. I couldn’t imagine having your girl make deliveries for you. Thats some serious pussy shit,” he rolls his eyes, holding the joint up to my mouth. I take a hit from the hot paper between his fingers. I look down at the spliff, then back at him to find his eyes already fixed on me. “If I was your boyfriend, I wouldn’t let you make deliveries for me,” he says in a much quieter tone, the moment is almost intimate as I blow the smoke into his face that’s closer to mine than I realized, but I can’t bring myself to back away. “And I sure as hell wouldn’t want you smoking with me,” he adds, bringing the joint to his lips to take the final hit.
“Why’s that?” I ask in a whisper with butterflies in my stomach, breathing in the smoke that’s slowly rolling off his lips.
“Because it gives me the opportunity to do something I’ve wanted to do since freshman year,” he matches my tone, glancing at my lips, bringing his finger and thumb around my chin, tilting my head up towards him. My heart begins to race at his proximity, I know I should pull away from him, but I can’t. I don’t want to. Just as his lips barely brush against mine, my Nokia rings out, sounding like an alarm, making me jump in surprise, scrabbling to find the small cellphone on the couch.
“Hey babe,” Warren answers the phone, winking at me. My stomach drops. Fuck. I reach for the phone, but warren stands up. “Nah man she’s good she’s right here. I just gave her the mon- hey. Hey!” I hear warren begin to shout. I cease my struggle to grab the phone. “Is there a fucking problem man?” Warren seethes into the phone. I hear my boyfriend’s muffled speech. “Yeah, I didn’t fuckin think so,” he hangs up the phone, handing the small plastic brick to me.
“You look pretty stoned,” he says picking up a coat off the couch, wrapping it around my shoulders. “Let me walk you out. You remember where his car is?” he asks, putting his hand on the small of my back, ushering me to the steps. I nod my head yes, staring at him with wide eyes trying to process what just happened.
“Lead the way then, beautiful,” he grins, and just like that, the butterflies are back. I don’t dare respond, not knowing what will come out of my mouth.
The walk to Dakota’s car is silent but comfortable, still pretty baked, I feel the rain coming down in sheets. vibrating calmly in my bones. I stare up at the orange glow of the streetlights in the night sky in awe. Everything looks so beautiful when you’re high.
“Here he is,” Warren says approaching the small rust bucket of a car that my boyfriend drives. He opens the passenger door for me. After I’m seated, he leans in to look at Dakota. “Don’t have your girl make trips for you anymore, man. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he says calmly but it comes across like a threat, before tossing a couple folded bills at Dakota and closing the door. I’m glad he remembered the money. Dakota would have killed me if I had left it down there.
 My boyfriend is quiet. Much more quiet than he normally is when someone threatens his masculinity. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s scarred of Warren.
As Dakota pulls off, his Insane Clown Posse CD playing quietly, I look out the side mirror to see warren standing with his hands in his pockets, getting soaked in the rain in nothing other than his t-shirt and jeans, watching me ride away. As Dakota begins to bitch and complain my ear, all I can think about is when ill see Warren again, then I remember; I have his coat. It would be rude of me to keep it. I’ll just have to return it to him.
It’s been a week since my interaction with Warren, and I can’t stop thinking about him.
‘Is it so wrong that I want to catch up with an old friend?’ I ask myself. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with visiting a friend, the issue lies in the fact that the thoughts I’m having of him aren’t exactly platonic.
‘I’ll just drop his coat off, thanking him for the kind gesture and be on my way.’ I tell myself as I climb into my car. ‘Okay, maybe I could make some small talk with him, that’s innocent enough. Yeah, ill ask him about his job, if he’s going to school now, stuff like that’ I manage to convince myself that this will be a short, polite visit with an old friend, but a part of me must know the truth because I tell Dakota that I’m going out with my mother for lunch.
I park my vehicle on a side street near the Lipka house, just in case Dakota drives down here for whatever reason. I grab Warrens coat and walk up to the porch.
‘Maybe he’s not home and I’ll just hand it to his parents,’ I think as I knock on the door. The thought disappoints me, but maybe it’s for the b-
“Y/n!” Warren exclaims as the door swings open. “What a pleasant surprise,” he crunches on a Cheeto, crinkling the bag as he folds it shut.
“Hey Warren,” I smile at the man standing in front of me while he licks the Cheeto dust off his fingers.
“Come in, its freezing,” he steps aside so I can enter. I frown a bit.
“Well, actually I’m just here to return your coat,” I hold out the slick material.
“How kind,” he flashes his dimples. “Are you in a rush?” He asks as he retrieves his jacket.
“Well, no…” I trail off, trying to think of an excuse, but its hard to excuse yourself from something you want more than anything else.
“Then come inside real quick, darling, just to warm up,” he winks at me and I cant help but giggle. I surrender, stepping into his warm home once again,and following him down to his room.
I sit down on his couch as Invader Zim plays on his box tv.
“This may be a bold assumption,” Warren starts as he sits down on the cushion next to me. “But I think you may have come back for something more than the raincoat,” he suggests, looking into my eyes.
“Warren-“ I begin, but I don’t know what to say. He’s right. I want to desperately finish what we almost started last week. Just the faint brushing of his lips against mine has made me feel something I’ve never experienced before. I need to feel him-
“Free weed, right?” He grins picking up the rolling tray.
Oh.
 I can’t help but blush. I thought for a moment that Warren had already forgotten about our last encounter, but the wink he sends my way suggests that he meant exactly what I thought he meant.
“It’s not often that I don’t have to match,” I admit, pulling my legs up to my chest.
“You mean with friends, right?” Warren asks before he licks the thin rolling paper, holding my gaze as his tongue slowly slides across the wrap.
“Uh,” my breath hitches in my throat. Damn he looks so good. I’ve never wanted to be a rolling paper so bad in my life. “No, I mean in general. Dakota says he’s, uhm, running a business. So I have to pay or match what I smoke every time we, uh, spark. Or else I’m stealing from him,” I mutter out. Warren smirks at the pink raising in my cheeks once again. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Thank God he can’t see the pool forming in my underwear.
“No offense y/n,” he sparks the joint, inhaling a hit of hot smoke. “But Dakotas pathetic,” he breaths out.
“None taken,” I laugh as I take the paper from his hand.
“I mean for more than just the way he treats you,” he explains as I pass the joint back to him. “I’ve known him for a while. We met through a mutual friend, a few years ago. Started smoking together, then started dealing together and breaking into the chain stores around here, ya know, the ones that just throw shit away while people are starving,” he begins to explain as he sinks into the couch, leaning his head back, blowing a cloud of smoke towards the drop ceiling tiles of his bedroom. I stare at him, taking another hit, hanging on to his every word. I could listen to his voice all day. “Soon he started shorting people on weed, over charging behind my back, he was jealous of how well I was doing, always trying to one up me, bragging about how he’s making more money than me, not caring how he achieved it. Then one night, he decided he was going to try and break into a store by himself, of course he chose the corner store down the street, the one owned by the little old lady,” he chuckles. “I beat the shit out of him as soon as I found out,” he takes a hit. “Pussy didn’t throw a single punch back. Just curled up on the ground. Worst part is; he didn’t even get anything. She chased him off with a broom,” he runs a hand through his long brown hair, finally looking at me as he hands me the spliff.
“Wow, I guess that’s why he seemed so scared the other day,” I giggle. I should feel bad, this guy just told me he beat my boyfriend up, but I almost want to thank him.
“That’s also why I get a discount,” he grins as smoke rolls out of his nostrils. “But for once,” he leans in closer to me. “I’m jealous of him,” I can feel his breath on my face. “Seeing you ride off in that car with him last week was painful to watch. You should have been right here with me,” he pushes a loose strand of hair out of my face, and I melt into his touch.
“Well,” I take in a shaky breath, unable to resist those coffee-colored eyes. “I’m here now, Warren.” And with that, the world ceases to spin as he crashes his lips into mine. I’m suddenly aware of my quick heartbeat, every ounce of blood flowing throw my veins, the electricity that shoots from Warrens hands into my body. The smell of smoke on his breath and the slightly stale air in the basement invades my senses. The kiss is desperate and hungry; something I haven’t felt in years. I moan into his mouth as he pulls me into his lap to straddle him.
“This is wrong, Warren,” I pull away reluctantly.
“No beautiful, it was wrong when he called me asking for Chelsea’s contact last month,” he pants. The mention of that whores name makes my blood boil. She’s his most recent side piece. “Had I known he was with you, I would have beat his ass again instead of sending it,” he says honestly, as his hand runs gently up my hip. My mind is made up in an instant. I take the joint out of his hand, inhaling one last hit before I set it in the ash tray. I slide down to the floor on my knees in between his legs before I take my sweater off, tossing it to the side.
“You’re right,” I grin as I reach for his buckle. The pop of the metal releasing ringing through my ears as I shimmy the jeans off his body. I look up at Warren through my lashes, his eyes wide staring down at me with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. The sight makes my core tingle.
“May I?” I ask palming him through his plaid boxers, feeling his dick stiffen under my touch.
“I insist,” he grins, helping me slide the boxers off. My eyes widen at his length in front of me. He’s perfect. I take him into my hand, holding his gaze as I let spit drip from my kiss bruised lips onto his tip, allowing me to stroke him easier. He curses under his breath as I move my hand up and down his now rock hard dick. I smile to myself before wrapping my mouth around his tip, slowly moving down his length until he hits the back of my throat, then I hollow out my cheeks, as I begin to bob up and down. Warren lifts his head to take in the sight below him. He rests a gentle hand on the back of my head.
“Fuck, you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he groans, instinctively moving his hips in rhythm with my head. I hum in response as I bring my other hand underneath his length to massage his balls, earning a low moan from him.
Soon he takes over, holding my head as he thrusts into my mouth. I push him in as far as possible, gagging on his length. He stands up so he can properly fuck my throat. This isn’t something that I normally do, I never allow Dakota to use me like this. But right now, I think I would let warren do absolutely anything he desires, and I would enjoy every second of it. This is the first time I’ve ever been so turned on from pleasing someone else. My underwear is soaked my arousal and he’s barely touched me. The praise and moans coming from Warren is enough to get me off. The way his eyes peer into mine as he violates my throat, bringing a gentle thumb up to wipe the tears that creep out of my eyes makes my heart flutter.
“Come here baby,” Warren pulls out of my mouth, I gasp for air as he picks my up to carry me to his bed. He pulls his shirt over his head and asks permission to pull my pants off. I nod quickly, earning a chuckle from him. “You did so good for me,” he lays a kiss on my forehead, using his shirt to wipe the tears and spit from my face, I smile at the sweet gesture. He pulls me into a kiss after climbing on top of me, both of us now completely naked. Warrens hand wonders down to my heat, dipping a finger into my entrance, I whimper at the contact. “You really got off to me fucking your throat, huh?” He smiles against my lips, feeling how wet I am for him.
“Please just fuck me Warren,” I beg. He smirks as he lines himself up with me.
“You ready, beautiful?” He asks. I nod, impatiently scooting closer to him, begging for contact. He chuckles as he slowly pushes into me. Being stretched out has never felt so good. There’s almost no pain as I easily take him, a loud moan escapes my lips
“Shh,” he smirks as he continues to push into me, stifling his own moans. “My folks are upstairs baby, not so loud,” he explains.
“I’m sorry,” I giggle. “You just feel so fucking go-“ I cut myself off with another loud moan as he begins rocking his hips at a steady pace. I clamp my hands over my mouth to muffle my moans. Warren looks down at me as he he pounds into me, a hand reaching down to hold my breast’s that are moving in rhythm with his hips.
“God, you’re so stunning,” he praises as he uses his other hand to push his curls out of his face. The sight of Warren on top of me is something that I never want to forget. If this is the last time he has his way with me, I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life. His hungry eyes that take the time to admire every inch of my body. The way his hair bounces as his cock pounds deeper inside me than anyone has ever been.
Suddenly, he pulls away, leaving me feeling empty as he lays down beside me.
“Come here darling,” he rests his back on the head board as he pulls me on top of him. “I want you to ride me. Can you do that for me baby,” he asks as he lays sloppy kisses on my neck. I giggle in response as I straddle him, happily allowing him to fill me once again. I let out a moan of relief as that void in my stomach is satisfied.
“Fuck,” Warren grunts. “You take me so well, beautiful,” he whispers as I bounce up and down on his cock. I lean forward to kiss him, muffling the moans coming from both of us. I move my hips in unison with his as his hand grips onto my ass spreading me open so he can pound as deep in me as possible. Im positive he’s leaving fingernail makes in the soft skin, but I don’t dare stop him. Warren reaches a finger down to rub circles on my clit, giving me just what I need to approach my release.
“Fuck,” I moan into our desperate, wet kiss. “Just like that Warren please,” I beg. Feeling my body heat up and my swollen cunt begin to throb. As Warren thrusts exactly where I need him, I come undone around him as I erupt in a fit of moans and praises. The euphoria quickly filling my body as my release drips onto Warrens twitching dick. He quickly throws me off of him, cum shooting up onto my chest and on to his stomach. I swiftly dip my head down, bringing him into my mouth to milk every last drop out of him.
“Fuck y/n!” He moans in surprise. Now it’s his turn to cover his mouth as he rides out his orgasm. I pull away to lay next to Warren, our chests heaving in unison.
“Holly shit,” he laughs after few minutes of comfortable silence. “That was…you were…wow,” he turns his head to smile at me, already looking at him.
“I can say the same to you,” I giggle, running my hand over his chest. He brings me in for one last kiss, this one gentle and kind.
“You can use my shower if you’d like, I’ve made quite the mess of you,” he smirks.
“Thank you,” I smile standing up. “Uhm, we’re definitely not going to tell Dakota about this, right?” I ask, suddenly feeling… not guilty… but nervous and almost excited in a strange way.
“My lips are sealed, beautiful,” he winks, taking my hand to guide me to his bathroom.
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fear-is-truth · 2 days
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bad to the bone, sick as a dog.
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kai-anderson-whore · 4 months
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The summoning (jmp x tate Langdon x reader smut)
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Summary: you had always been fascinated with serial killers and true crime, one day you decided to try and summon your two favourite killers
Warnings: smut, three way, oral (tate receiving), p in v sex, doggy style 😏, summoning a ghost, ouija board,
Word count: 1,3k (another short one it was supposed to be longer)
A/n: this is a request by @villains-are-hot, thank you for the request and once again I apologise that it was very rushed at the end and I took ages to post this 😊
•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.
For as long as you could remember you had a unhealthy obsession with true crime/ serial killers. Some may say it's far from normal, it was frightening. You knew stories of cases watched all the documentaries and more.
Some people say it's the type of obsession you hear killers having before they kill. You didn't care it was a interest that you were so passionate about. You preferred learning about serial killers, how their mind works, what drove them to do it. The ones you liked learning about the most was Tate Langdon who got shot dead in his bedroom after shooting up his school one day in 1994. And the other was James Patrick march a well known serial killer from the 1920s to the early 1930s. Legend has it they both still reside in their place of death.
You didn't know if that was true or not, you visited the hotel that James Patrick march resides in but nothing, you couldn't exactly go to the murder house since people live there. It intrigued you deeply, the thought it could be true or not.
You didn't know what you were doing when the idea popped into your head, you thought it won't work but it was worth a go. Now researching things to do, how to summon ghosts, some where a bit far fetched others seemed fake but you were willing nonetheless. Finding a method writing down everything that had to be done.
You sat in front of the oujia board your fingers delicately on the triangle piece. You took deep breaths trying to stay calm circling the board three times before saying "James Patrick march and Tate Langdon I invite you to this space" waiting a few seconds you felt eerily quiet and cold.
"Is there anyone here?" You asked the board, you felt something pushing the triangle to yes, you gasped in shock now feeling nervous but your fingers still remain on the piece. "How many sprits are here?" You then asked feeling uneasy slightly regretting your decision. The piece moved to the number 2 you didn't know if it was you or if it was actually two spirits here but you slowly asked your next question "w-who are you?".
The board moved to around spelling out two initials JMP and TL you gasped removing your hands from the board standing up. Completely forgetting to say goodbye. You immediately grabbed the board putting it away "what the fuck, it's probably me doing it it's got to be" you whispered to yourself.
"Not quite dear" a voice chimed making you yelp in fright. "What the fuck!?" You turned around seeing two guys there awfully familiar to you, they looked identical like discrete descent, "w-who are you?" You asked in fear.
"I'm James Patrick march and this is-" "Tate Langdon" they said, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion "you're both dead no this can't be true." You couldn't believe what you were seeing they looked exactly like the killers you knew so much about. "How are you here?" You asked a thousand questions running around your head.
"Well you summoned us" Tate chuckled pointing to the ouija board. That's when you realised "shit I forgot to say goodbye" mentally cursing yourself, "it's quite alright dear, but I must ask how did you manage to get us free?" James asked.
"Dude she used the ouaji board to get us out" Tate said like James was dumb. "That's fascinating" James eyes light up "I don't know how we could ever thank you" James added. Tate's eyes on you like you’re his prey, swallowing a lump in your throat as his steps grew closer to you from behind. "I've got an idea" Tate's breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. "Y-you don't need to thank me" your voice was above whisper unsure what they mean.
"Well boy enlighten us with your idea" James's velvety voice made you shiver more. You couldn't deny they were both very attractive despite their tendency to killing. "Well she's pretty isn't she? Don't you agree?" Tate smirked his hands running down the soft skin of your arms. "I do agree with you she is quite remarkable" James agreed beckoning his steps closer to you.
You didn't know if your body was filled with fear or anticipation maybe both. Closing your eyes feeling their breaths breeze across your features. James colds fingertips grazing gracefully along your bare arms bringing goosebumps to their wake. "I think we shall reward her for setting us free from our eternal resistances" James smirked his pencil moustache raising up.
"I was thinking the same" Tate chuckled with a devilish smirk, you didn't know what to feel scared? Or turned on? Maybe both. Feeling their cold hands on you but you didn't protest instead you let out a small sigh tugging on your shirt removing it from your body your head felt like it was spinning feeling their lips on your neck. You felt yourself being guided to your bed. Seeing Tate now above you with a mischievous smirk on his face.
You didn't know where James was until Tate pull away from you, seeing James now in his briefs flipping you over on your hands and knee. You whimpered in anticipation for what's to come feeling James's cold fingers hooking into your underwear peeling the fabric of your underwear off you and into the floor. Tate in front of you his impressive length in-front of you, holding yourself on one hand stroking him, earning a low groan erupted from his mouth. You felt cold fingertips teasing your folds collecting your arousal bringing it to your clit circling it in slow torturous motions.
A small gasp left your lips, your body automatically responding to James's touch "that's it dear" he says huskily, Tate still knelt infront of you his eager length desperate for attention. You took Tate's cock in your hand stroking him kitten licking the tip making him buck his hips into your touch more. You took Tate in your mouth swirling your tongue along the tip, gasping as you felt James enter your heat.
James thrusted into you slowly you moaned against Tate's length. A low groan rumbled from his throat his hips bucked further in your throat. James thrusts grew more faster and harder, tears forming in your eyes. "Fuck" Tate hissed his hips essentially fucking your throat.
"You feel wonderful darling" James hissed his grip on your hips tight, nails digging into your skin only adding to your pleasure. "Fuck" you moaned feeling Tate twitch in your mouth signalling you that he was close. You kept your movements along Tate's cock till he releases into the back of your throat, swallowing every drop. James kept his movements thrusting harshly into you you felt close to the edge "I'm so close" you moaned. Tate was watching you and James with a smirk, his skin flustered. James didn’t stop his movements hitting that spot guaranteed to make you see stars.
With a few more harsh deep thrusts, your body trembles, back arching releasing over James’s length trigging his own release deep inside you. His thrusts became sloppy till they came to a halt. Trying to catch your breath “that was something else” you chuckled. James and tate shared a wicked smile between them, “oh we’re don’t done, we’re only getting started” Tate’s voice make a shiver run down your spine waiting on what’s to come.
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emmalandry · 5 months
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⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆
𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟙𝟝 ~ 𝔻𝕣𝕪 ℍ𝕦𝕞𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘
⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆
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⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆
༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕓𝕓𝕝𝕖༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆
Waking up to tate grinding softly against your plump ass. His hard on gliding against the soft flesh as he whimpers in his sleep. You reach your hand behind you and lightly shake him "Tate, Honey, wake up."
His eyes flutter open and flash down to notice his cock humping against your thigh. "I-i'm sorry baby. My cocks just so hard it hurts." his voice is stuttery and the poor boy is just so embarrassed :(
But you make sure to reassure him that it's okay. "It's okay baby, just keep going, make yourself feel good." His voice is soft as he mutters out broken thank yous and I love yous.
It doesn't take long for him to finish at the feeling of your soft flesh and his pj pants rubbing his cock just right.
⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆
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"What a sassy filthy mouth you have there, my dear.. Indeed filthy."
You and James arguing and he sees no valid point in your excuses so instead, he turns away and grabs a drink to calm him down while you still continue to prove your point, shouting at him. You could not help but admire his figure and his elegant body movements as he pours himself a drink, as he lets out a heavy sigh after drinking the alchohol and as it runs through his system. The dim light of the suite highlighting his features, him also making sure you can feel the seductive atmosphere that he's about to fill this room later with the help of that heavy raspy sigh he made and with him literally making it look like to you that he doesn't wanna hear your blabbering and would just like to see you submissive like a little doe. Just like how he always pleases to see you. He even knows how to manipulate you with actions only. The number 1 best seducer.
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