#james patrick march x reader

[icedheartss]

He hurt me but it felt like true love . . .

[fear-is-truth]

“i can fix him”

ok welcome to the construction crew

[d0llfaac3]

If totally psycho why sexy??

[her-favorite]

COLLEAGUES

Luke Cooper x F!Reader

Summary: You and Luke always tried to convince yourselves that you hated each other, but once you both come to your senses.. things heat up..

Warnings: SMUT!!

a/n: the office is and has been one of my fav shows so I'm really happy to be able to write about it 🤭, i made luke really sweet to the reader bc I can

wc: 3938

-

"You think they did it?" Meredith took another bite of her sandwich, looking over at you and Luke by the shelves in the annex. Everyone sat in the break room, eating their lunch.

Angela scoffed at the question, rolling her eyes and picking at her salad. There were many hums across the room.

"Totally! Do you see the way he looks at her butt?"

"Kevin!" They all groan, looking away from the man. He threw his hands up, ready to defend himself.

"They totally have. I mean, have you seen the way they look at each other?" Phyllis ignores the man next to her, looking back at you two.

"The way who looks at who?" Michael walks in, putting his hands in his pockets. He had a smile on his face, ready to hear the drama.

"No one!" Pam quickly declines, shaking her head and looking back down at her food. She always knew that you had to stop Michael before he could start.

"If one of you doesn't tell me, I will start screaming." He threatens, giving a look to everyone.

"Y/N and Luke." Phyllis answers fast, not wanting to deal with her managers ridiculous antics. All of the employees sighed once they saw Michael's face light up. "Michael please don't.."

"I hired them! Matchmaker!" He points his thumbs to himself, smiling wide and looking at the camera.

"Michael, they're not together. It's just gossip." Pam tries to explain, looking at her husband to try and back her up.

"Yeah, it's just talk." Jim agrees, nodding his head.

Michael turns his head around, looking at the two together. They stood close together, the personal space rule being broken. You both were looking through files, occasionally talking or mumbling something none of the others could hear.

"Look at them, though! They're in kissing distance!" He pointed at them, many of the others hissing at him to put his finger away because of how obvious it was. He quickly shushed them, rolling his eyes.

"Michael, just please don't make this a big deal."

-

"Hey, Y/N." You jumped slightly as you heard your bosses voice beside your ear. You looked to your right, Michael Scott's face staring back at you.

"Yes, Michael?" You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Your desk was out in the main area, but near the back. There had been an extra desk by Creed (despite the crazy amount of protest by you and the others) and Michael decided that it was fine for you since no one was there. Thankfully, Creed was always too busy by writing down his thoughts on Google Docs and eating mung beans to pay enough attention to you.

"So," He dragged out the vowel, moving up to lean against your desk. He looked at the camera, his lips puckered then back at you. You took a quick glance at the camera lens as well, confused about what this whole situation was about.

"You and Luke, huh?" He smirked, nudging his shoulder forward into the air. You furrowed your eyebrows, crossing your arms against your chest.

"What about me and Luke?" You ask, genuinely confused on what he was questioning. He sighed, sitting up slightly.

"You know.." He looked at the wall, trying to think of the right words. "You two are together." He said, more as a statement than a question.

"What?" You laughed. "No. No, definitely not." You shook your head, chuckles escaping your lips. You sat up, leaning forward on your elbows that rested on your arm chairs.

"Wha.. What?" He freezes, staring at you.

"Did you think that we were.. a thing?" Your face showed your honesty, your eyes wandering around the rest of the room. The others that worked in the room were watching your conversation, only some looking away when you made eye contact with them. "You guys thought that I would date him?" You get up from your chair, looking around.

"I mean.. we see the way you guys look at each other." Phyllis defends, playing with her pen. "That's how Bob and I looked at each other before we were together." She smiled, looking at Stanley who rolled his eyes.

"What? We hate each other. Don't you see how annoying he is? He can't even do his job!" Your arms were  accentuating your disbelief.

"Hey! That's my nephew!" Michael pointed at you, but stood back a little when he mumbled, "Yeah.. I guess you're right. But, hey!" His voice lowered again.

"She is right, Michael. Luke hasn't done anything we've asked of him." Dwight gets up and walks behind him. "Every time we ask him to send something to a client or the post office, he says he'll do it later and we end up finding it in the trunk of his car. Which is way too slow, by the way." He looks at the camera, his hands on his hips. "You want a fast car if you're going to try and catch an animal. The tactic is.."

"Dwight. Dwight!" Michael waves him off, watching you walk off into the kitchen. "Great job, Dwight!"

"You were the one that interrogated her!" He exclaims, throwing his hands up to his sides.

"Why don't we just leave it alone? Let them just work?" Jim suggests, leaning back in his chair and pointing at them with the pen that was in his hand.

Michael scoffed and Dwight made the same sound right after his boss did.

"Yeah, right, Jim. Let two assistants live their own lives and do their own work." He put his hands on his hips and made a face at the camera.

"Yes, do that." Jim mumbled to the camera, shaking his head and looking back at the paper on his desk.

-

"Hey, Y/N/N." Luke walked into the kitchen through the annex door, smirking at you.

"Don't call me that." You reply sharply, pouring your water into the white mug on the counter.

It was true that you hated Luke Cooper.. at least that was what you told yourself. You weren't as new as him, having been here for around a year. You've gotten used to Michael's antics and the crazy stuff that goes down at the office, but you weren't expecting a new addition any time soon. Especially when you found out it was your bosses nephew.

You should've known that he was going to be trouble.

"Why not, Y/N/N?" He came up beside you, resting his frame against the counter that you were facing towards. His irritating smirk overtook your mind, aggravating you even more.

"What do you want, Luke? Don't you have a job to do?" You gave him a look and walked around him to put the pitcher away and back into the fridge. Before you could make your way back, you stood in front if Luke who took your mug in his hands.

"Nope. But thanks for the drink, babe!" He smiles at you and sends you a wink, taking a sip of your water and walking back into the annex.

You stood still for a moment, before letting out an annoyed groan and running your hands through your hair. You walked fast towards the door that lead outside, your pace showing your irritation.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Pam called out, but you were already out the door.

Dwight looked towards the camera, "Lovers quarrel."

-

"Luke? Wha.. Why do people keep asking me about him?" You ask the camera crew, standing outside. The sun was shining right in tour eyes, your hand trying to cover the brightness. You sigh, looking around to make sure no one was around to talk to the camera.

"He gets on my last nerve. He was hired just because Michael wanted to see his nephew for the first time in 15 years. We didn't need another person." You shook your head. "I was doing all the work before, but now that there's two of us, both of us should be splitting it up; I shouldn't being doing the work for two people." You held up your fingers, thrusting them towards the camera lens, making sure they knew how mad you were.

-

"Y/N? She's fine, I guess." Luke sat at his chair in the annex, leaning back and letting his hands link together lazily in front of him.

"She says that you purposely annoy her."

Luke laughs, throwing his head back. "Of course she says that. She also says she hates me, but we all know that's not true. She only says that because I don't do any work. And get the coffee orders wrong... And steal a lot of her stuff." He pauses for a moment before shrugging his shoulders.

"But, I mean, yeah, she's fine, I guess."

-

You let out a heavy exhale as you sat at the little table in the kitchen, picking at your food. You had a book to your right, but it was long forgotten once you started to zone out.

"Hey, Y/N!" You look up once you hear Pams cheery voice. You smile at her, watching her pour some coffee for herself.

"Hey, Pam." You end up shutting the book completely as she walks over and sits near you. "What's up?" You pick up a grape with your fork and eat it.

"Uh, I wanted to apologize for everyone in the office. I know everyone's been acting weird around you and Luke, it's ridiculous." She starts to explain.

"It is! I don't understand what's going on? Why does everyone think we're together?" You ask on rapid fire, desperately trying to figure out what was happening around the office. Your eyes showed your confusion, Pam could see and sense it.

"You know how much this office loves drama," she sends a look your way, you nodding in agreement. "And I'm sorry you had to be the main subject of it. If it makes you feel any better, Jim and I totally believe you, so you have two of us on your side." She consoles, sending a soft smile your way. Your mood brightens a little, sending one back.

As soon as you opened your mouth to thank her, the door squeaked open again. "Oh, hey!" Michaels voice echoed off the walls of the small room. The both of you sighed, deciding to look away from the man and down at the table or at each other. "Girls talk! What're we talking about?" He quickly walks over and sits across from you with a wide smile on his face. The camera followed right after him (without the knowledge of you, it was recording the whole other conversation with Pam as well).

"Michael.." Pam started, but he cut her off.

"Come on, tell me!" He put his hands down on the table. "Oh, I know." He sends a smirk to the camera then at you. "This is about you and my nephew!" You sigh at his words, debating your next move. "Okay, listen, since you are dating a Scott relative, I need to give you the run down, young lady." He tries to sound series, but ends up laughing and glancing at the camera again. "You are definitely Luke's type. I mean, I can only imagine the sex-"

"Michael." Pam cuts him off, watching you walk away and out of the room.

"What? I didn't say anything?" He defends himself, now watching Pam walk out as well.

"Guess they aren't getting any."

-

"Luke, can I talk to you?" Michael asks, putting his hands on his hips. Luke was standing by your desk, clearly bothering you. You had a certain look on your face, showing your indignation.

He looks over at his uncle, taking a quick glance at you before getting up and grudgingly walking towards him. Michael leaned out of the way and his open palm pointing towards his office. Luke gives him a glare, but walks in and lazily takes a seat in the chair across from the desk.

"So, my dear nephew," Michael sits down in his chair, fixing his tie so it didn't sit on his desk. He folds his arms on the dark wood. He stares at him for a while with a smile on his face, taking quick looks at the camera.

"What?" Luke snaps, his patience running thin. If he was being honest, he would rather be annoying you by your desk then be talking to his uncle.

"So.. I heard from the grapevine that you and little ol' Y/N were together." He says, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"What? We're not together. Who told you that?" He shook his head, sitting up slightly. He did hear about all the talk around the office, but he pretended he didn't. He wasn't really sure how to react to it. He never thought of you in a way more than a frenemy. He always knew you were beautiful as soon as he walked through the office door, but he never told you that. He didn't really think much of his feelings towards you, any time he saw you he knew that he had to bother you some way. Maybe it was just his instinct, but maybe it was because it was his only way of trying to talk to you.

"I, well, uh.." Michael smacked his lips, looking off into the distance, grimacing. He rested his hand on his lips, trying to think of something.

-

"I am a master at improv. I've took it for years, I know what I'm doing." Michael sassed at the camera."

-

"Well.. Luke! Wait!" He stood up from his chair as he watched his nephew walk out of the room. Ever the drama queen, Luke ran into the annex, going straight for the break room. He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. He say down at one of the empty chairs, putting his head in his hands.

Did he have feelings for you? The more he thought about it the more scared he got. He annoyed you because he never truly knew how to talk to you. He didn't have a problem giving people attitude, everyone knew that. But something about you made him nervous. There was no way you could like him back now.

"You okay?" His head shot up from his hands, looking at you. You stood there, leaning against the doorframe. Your question was genuine, something that surprised Luke.

"Uh, yeah. Just a little.. confused?" He tried to explain, but couldn't find the right words. He watched you walk over to him, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down. The camera outside of the room zoomed in and out from both of you.

You let out a long sigh. "I know that we never really got off on the wrong foot. I guess I was just upset that Michael thought that I wasn't very good at my job since he had to hire another assistant to do the same job as me." You rung your hands together, a nervous habit Luke seemed to pick up on. "If I'm being honest.. I'm sorry that I treated you like that. I never meant to be rude to you, especially with the fact you're my bosses nephew." You both let out a light chuckle. You took another deep breath, "But I never really thought of you in another way than the man that was hired by his uncle." You admitted. "I never meant to cause you any harm, truly. But I never had such strong feelings for someone before." You confessed, looking at your hands, avoiding his stare. "I always tried to convince myself that I hated you, but it was never really true. At least not until now. I know you can be a pain in the ass since you never do your job," You both laugh again, making eyes contact. "But if I don't tell you now, then I probably never will." You go to leave, but you felt his hand on yours, stopping you.

Luke looked at your eyes, noticing all of the emotions in them. "I never considered it until now. I mean, I knew you were pretty, but the thought of us never crossed my mind before today. And I've realized how happy it makes me. And I know I'm an asshole and I'm mean, but I never meant to hurt you if I did. If I'm being honest with you, you mean more to me than any of these asshats in this office." You let out a chuckle, squeezing his hand.

"Can I do something stupid?"

"Depends what you mean."

Luke leaned across the table, cupping your cheek with his hand. He hesitated for a moment, before pressing his lips against yours. You didn't waste a second to kiss back, your hand reaching back to cup the back of his head and tug at his curls.

Once you break away for air, you're both smiling. It was almost as if you were knew what you wanted as you both got up from your seats and connecting your lips again. He took your hips in his hands leading you out of the room and pushing you into an empty closet. He slammed the door behind you, never taking his lips off of yours. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, your mouth immediately granting him access.

"You're so beautiful." Luke whispered against your lips, making you smile. He pressed his lips against yours again, fumbling for the hem of your shirt. You broke apart and lifted your arms up to help him take it off. He threw it on the floor, leaning down to kiss your neck. His hair tickled you, but his cold hands on your body made you shiver. His hand cupped your bra covered breast, kneading the skin. You quietly moaned, arching your back in his hand. He sucked on the skin, biting and licking at it to leave a deep mark.

"Luke," You breathe out, your hands trying to work on his belt and the buttons on his shirt. He undid his tie, his lips hovering over yours. You helped him throw his shirt on the floor, both of your lips only ever breaking apart to take in an inhale of air.

It wasn't exactly necessary to rid both of yourself of your clothing, but you both needed it. Neither of you could deny it.

You helped him out of his pants and vice versa. His fingers grazed over your panties, stimulating your clit through the damp fabric. He pulled them down, bringing his fingers back and groaning. "You're so fucking wet." His voice sounded deeper in your ear, making you shiver. Your hands braced yourself on his shoulders, occasionally digging your nails into his soft skin.

He pushed a finger inside you, your head leaning against the wall behind you and your mouth opening in pleasure. He added another finger, curling them and letting out a strangled breath every time you moaned.

When he pulled away, you sounded in protest, but quickly shut your mouth when you felt his tip against you, scared to be too loud.

Once he pushed inside, you both groaned, your nails carving crescent moons into his shoulders. His beautiful brown eyes pierced into yours, your left hand moving up to brush into the nape of his hair. He leaned down to kiss you, quickly adding his tongue. His groan was muffled by your lips when you tugged at his curls.

His hand reached down to grab your thigh and hooking it around his hip. It have him a better angle, thrusting harder inside you, pace becoming faster as you both felt knots form in your stomachs.

"God, Y/N. You feel so- fuck- good." He whimpered against your lips, both of your chests heaving together. You felt his hand move up your body, squeezing your boob. His thumb and forefinger twisted your nipple, your mouth opening in a silent plea. Your body erupts in chills when his cold hand moved down your body again to press against your clit.

"Fuck- Luke!" You moan, your mouth not being able to stop your sounds. He groaned again, your name rolling off his tongue. His nails scratched into the skin on your thigh, knowing it would leave marks. "I'm gonna cum." You almost want to scream it, your back arching, basking in the amount of pleasure you were feeling.

"Me too. Cum for me Y/N." His thumb pressed harder on your clit, rubbing rougher circles. You clenched, the knot inside you breaking. You came with a shout, your hand immediately reaching up to cup your mouth to silence it.

Luke came shortly after with another groan of your name, his face hiding in your neck. His nose rubbed against the newly formed hickey on your skin. You both breathed heavily, your chests touching while you tried to catch your breath.

"I really like you, Luke." You whisper, the hand that was still in his hair was twisting his curls with your fingers. "I don't want this to be a passing thing." You confess, looking at the closet wall.

You felt him move, looking up at him. He had a smile on his face, leaning down to kiss you. "I really like you too. I'd also really like it if you would let me take you out on a date." He mumbled, his thumbs rubbing your cheekbones. You both smiled wide, your kiss telling him you accepted.

Once you both were done, you put your clothes back on and you tried to fix your hair with the help of Luke's compliments. Luke didn't even try to hide anything, his already wrinkly shirt even worse than usual, as well as his unbrushed hair.

He opened the door, letting you walk out in front of him. He closed the door behind him, smacking your ass, then walking away with a smirk. He sent you a wink, opening the door to the kitchen, knowing you'd have to follow him out to your desk either way.

Your face felt hot as you followed his steps, watching him pour a drink in his mug. He leaned his back against the counter, one hand resting on the hard surface. He watched you from behind the mug, noticing the way you freeze when you look out the window of the door that leads out into the main office.

Everyone stood outside of the door, looking into the small room. Kevin and Meredith had a smirk on his face, Angela the opposite, others with suggestive expressions.

"Good luck out there, babe." He teased, slapping your ass again, which you quickly glared at him for. He sent another wink your way, before going back into the annex to sit at his desk.

You looked back at the door, taking a deep breath trying to compose yourself. You knew that you were about to be bombarded with questions and statements.

You took quick steps towards it, twisting the doorknob, attempting to move the door open, the others moving out of the way. You headed straight for your desk, taking a seat and picking up your pen and looking between your computer and the papers.

"I called it!"

[taintandviolent]

Devil's Favours - James March x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Can I help you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I forgot my key, wait I –” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl, sit there.”

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

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

“N-no, no… no please.”

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

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

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

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

“What!? Inevitable for what?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who you callin’ weirdo, bitch?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dinner… is served.” James said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, there you are.” He crooned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pl-please… don’t kill me… please…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You mewled in response, snot dripping from your nose. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lanawintersenthusiast]

eating disorder?

no bitch, im eating this order 😍

[nahoyasboyfriend]

Burning desire

warnings: professor and student, fem!reader, shameless smut, creampie bc why not, choking (it's James what did you expect), readers a love(lust)struck loser who likes her teacher.

Word count: 4.8k

A/N: first time writing something on that more the 2k. This isn't proofread, but I hope it's to your liking. This is kinda old so it might be bad. Hope you enjoy!

You arrived fairly early on the first day. It wasn't really intentional—you live only a few blocks away and paranoid that you have somehow overslept, rushed to get ready. Thankfully you aren't too early for the door to be locked, just enough for the classroom to be mostly empty of students. There were two other people in the room, pulling paper and pencils out their bags and not paying you any mind. You make yourself comfortable in your seat—not too close but not painfully far from where the instructor will be—and follow in their example.

With nothing left to do, you pull out your phone to mindlessly scroll until class starts. In the midst of liking some random post, your phone buzzes—the low battery notification pops on the screen. You would forget to charge your phone last night. Sighing, you reach into your bag to grab your charger, sifting through the content of your bag only to find it not in there; you must've left it at home. Just great. After your phone dies, you have no other choice but to either look blankly at your desk or watch the few people here.

You find your eyes flitting across the room to them; it's not like you don't watch people when you're bored anyway.

When you've had your fill of observing, the door opens—it looks like your teacher has finally arrived. You watch the man get himself ready for the upcoming lecture; he’s busy arranging some paperwork so you take the time to ogle him shamelessly. He looks young, maybe around his early thirties. His hair is slicked down to perfection and he has a little pencil mustache—He is, admittedly, rather handsome.

You hadn't expected that. You weren't quite sure what your expectation was—probably thought he'd be some fourty-year old depressed asshole whose wife doesn’t love him. Yeah…that'd be the type of person who looks like they’d teach a course like this one.

Suddenly, he glances up, probably to check how many people had come in. Still, it scares the living daylights out of you—you rip your gaze away from him. Opting to snatch up your phone and pretend you have more interesting things to look at besides your teacher, you feel your face warm up when you still feel his eyes on you. The sound of his chair scraping the floor pulls everyone's attention to the front; he saunters over to the board and jots down his name with Expo marker.

“My name is Mr. March,” he declares with a smile. Oh fuck, he has a nice voice.

You don't pay much attention to the rest of his introduction, but you still enjoy the timbre of his voice. Instead, you go back to admiring his looks in a totally-not-creepy way. He looks like money-personified; the black vest, the white button-up underneath, and the pair of black pants are all crisp and obviously made with premium material. He even walks with a grace that most lack,talking in a manner like he is more of a socialite than a mere college professor.

More students start to flow in and by the time Mr. March is through with going over his expectations for the semester, everyone is seated and ready for class to start.

In the row ahead of you, a group of girls were quietly debating amongst themselves if he was single or not. You would've laughed if you weren't curious yourself. You spent the remainder of class staring at him without listening to a word that left his pretty mouth (later on you beat yourself up for not taking notes). His voice was hypnotic, each word sinking you deeper into whatever trance you were in. He was refined… elegant. Every movement looked calculated.

Honestly, he could be one of those old Hollywood stars. Face perfectly sculpted to be plastered on billboards; a smile born for posters. Briefly, you wondered if you were to go searching that you'd find him in a classical film.

Then, he's looking at you and the world stops—it shouldn't be anything mind-blowing because there's really nothing special about it, but still, you find yourself immobilized. His voice is syrupy, smooth, and mind-numbing. He clears his throat and your cheeks burn. He looks expectant, like he's waiting for something. He definitely asked you a question. Scrambling through your racing thoughts, you just stare dumbly at him, waiting for him to repeat whatever he had asked. He doesn't.

“I, er, don't know,” you mumble sheepishly. He quirks an eyebrow at that, painfully unimpressed. He doesn't say anything for what feels like an eternity and his silence suffocates you. The only sounds in the class were a few chuckles from other students. You shift in your seat.

“You would've known if you had listened to me,” he lightly scolds. You nod, hoping that'll be enough to show that you get his point. He furrows his brows, and he looks like he's about to push it further. Luckily, he takes mercy on you and simply repeats the initial question.

A few more giggles, and the class is back to normal. You'd think being publicly berated would be enough for you to learn your lesson, but it isn't. Because soon enough, his words are going in one ear and out the other—the words meld together into a pleasant hum in the background.

Before you know it, class is over. You bite your lip as you hurry to pack your bags, the shame from earlier returning like a punch to the gut. You don't dare look in his direction, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You scurry out the door, and thank the lord he's your only class of the day.

You let out a long-awaited sigh as you burst through your front door, haphazardly throwing your bag in the corner—you can finally decompress. You study until you feel like your head is about to burst to keep your thoughts off of him and the rather embarrassing way your first day ended.

It's been a few weeks since you got chastised for being an absent-minded idiot, and despite the embarrassment you can't bring yourself to be mad at him. Instead of anger, or even mild annoyance, all you feel is attraction. You try to deny it, bottle it up and push it to the back of your mind. Innocent fascination is what you label it. His passè charm and unconventional way of speaking is why you can't get him out of your head. That's the real reason all your thoughts lead back to him. Why at night you get struck with downright obscene visuals of him. You don't touch yourself— At least not in reality.

The you— you’ve conjured up in your head does, she touches him too. She fondles him in places you'll never see—let alone touch in real life. He says things to her that you'll never hear. He gradually seeps into your dreams, when that happens you wake up with damp underwear, and humiliation that settles deep in the crevices of your gut. It makes seeing him so much worse, but something about him captivates you.

You find yourself sneaking glances when you're convinced he isn't looking– It's the only thing you can't seem to stop– so you indulge. The only rule: don't get caught. And that sounds pretty easy to adhere to. Just don't look too long.

Simple, right?

Naively, you were confident you could do it. It worked for a little while. But at some point, you got complacent. Assured yourself you wouldn't get caught because you were doing so well. Your eyes meet in slow motion, or that's how it felt to you. In the middle of personal study time, so you had no real excuse. Neither of you break eye contact for a few more seconds, and he has a plain, almost bored expression on his face.

Ducking your head down, you stare at your blank paper. You don't pretend to write anything. It's pointless now. You’d been caught red-handed. You simply sit there, wallowing in your shame. That's become your favorite pastime lately. Deciding enough time has passed, you peek up. He's gone back to whatever he was writing and you decide that now is the time to actually write on your paper.

Class ends and you're packing up. You don't rush today, taking your time collecting your things.

“a word, please.”

You swallow dryly, cemented in place. Hesitantly, you peer up at him. His eyes bore deep into your soul like two black voids sucking you in. Growing impatient, he adds: “Yes, you. I'd like to speak to you.”

You dwandle your way to him. He doesn't rush you, at least not verbally, but by the look on his face your torpor was getting under his skin. You pick up the pace. Finally, you reach his desk. “You, um, wanted to speak to me?”

“Mm,” He clasps his hands, sitting them on his desk. “I called you here to discuss your grades,” he says, “you're a clever girl, we're both aware of that. You could be doing so much better, but there's something distracting you, correct?”

For a brief moment thick, uncomfortable silence falls over the two of you. You rummage through your brain for explanations. How could you tell him that he's the distraction? That all your troubles were somehow connected to him.

“I, uh, haven't been keeping up with my studies lately,” you stammer, “My sleep schedule has been kinda messed up,” Because of you. “So, when I get that in order I should be good.”

He frowns, narrowing his eyes slightly; he doesn't look convinced. Standing up, he makes his way to you. He stops in front of you, looming over you like a shadow. He's of average height, but you still have to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. You’re struck by the fragrance of his cologne— god, he smells amazing. He places a hand on your shoulder, you tense up almost immediately. His hand is so big. Shaking those thoughts away, you nervously await his next word.

“If you don't compose yourself, I fear I may have to take on a more… hands-on approach.” he tuts, giving your shoulder a nearly painful squeeze. You blink, dazed. You swallow once more, desperately trying to wet your throat. “I understand,” you utter, voice airy like you'd been running a marathon. You feel dizzy. His words buzzing in your head like tv static.

You honestly just want to get out of here, and wait out the heat that’s building between your thighs. Pleased with your response, he smiles at you. A lazy, feline grin, and you can see the slight indents of his dimples.

“Wonderful!” He replies, gleefully. His hand lets go of your shoulder. Your skin is still throbbing from the contact. “Well, then, you're dismissed.”

When you make it inside, you're panting, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat from speed walking all the way home. You let your bag drop onto the floor, unconcerned with where it lands. You sigh, exasperated. There's a pressure in your chest, or it could be described as a warmth. Or an ache. Or all those things at once. You weren't sure— nor do you really care. All you know is his words keep replaying in your head, muddling all your thoughts.

You practically run to your bed, exhausted from your own thoughts. Before you can attempt to stop it, he's invading your head for the umpteenth time. You groan. That warmth in your chest begins trickling down, pooling in the space between your legs. You can still feel his hand on your shoulder, the dull ache of the squeeze. Flipping onto your back, you stare vacantly at the ceiling. You could only deny yourself for so long. Placing your feet flat on the mattress, your hand slips past the band of your panties. A little relaxation couldn't hurt. Especially with how pent up you've been, It was well deserved.

You let out a breathless little whine when your fingers brush your swollen clit. God, you needed this. You run a finger through your folds, the slick sticks your skin. Using your wetness to ease the friction, you rub slow circles on your clit, and your eyes flutter shut. You could see him on the back of your eyelids. Your hips buck up pathetically into your own hand. You're leaking, cunt quivering around nothing.

You could still smell him. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating, even now it lingered in your nose. Rich and velvety. Something that wealthy decadents would wear just to let you know you'd never be able to afford it. You push a finger in, various curses fall from your lips. His hands– my god, his hands. They're so big. So strong. You slip another finger in. The heel of your hand grinds against your clit, and the feeling sends chills down your spine.

You're a writhing, squirming mess on your bed. The squelching from your fingers thrusting into your dripping cunt has the tips of your ears burning, but you don't stop. You picture him, his fingers knuckle deep in your cunt, methodically fucking them in and out of you. You imagine him curling them inside of you, and you mimic the motion in real life, sending another rush of slick gushing out. You think about the sweet purr of his voice, urging you on— instructing you to cum, so you do. You come hard, mumbling his name like he's your new god.

The shower after is long and quiet, you spend a good portion letting the water run down your body to soothe your tense muscles. You don't play any music or hum anything. You’re barely thinking. Your only goal is to get in bed and pass out. And when you finish, that's exactly what you do. You snuggle into your covers and as soon as your head hits the pillow you're out.

Your eyelids slowly peel apart; heavy. Your entire body feels like a bag of rocks. You lie there, taking long, drawn-out blinks. There's a strange peacefulness in the air. None of the usual worry that fills your head, no noise besides your soft breaths, and the sweet song of the birds outside. You prop yourself up, reaching out to your bedside table to grab your phone. With a click your phone turns on, the sudden light blinds you. Blinking away the blurriness, your eyes begin to focus on the big white numbers: 11:25

You stumble out of the comfort of your bed. You have five minutes to get ready and head out the door. Running to your dresser, you pull out some clothes to wear. How you manage the sleep through your numerous alarms was beyond you, but nevertheless that didn't turn back time. You shuffle into your bra, throw the shirt over your head, and jump into a pair of pants. You're able to get the important parts of your morning routine done. Besides a few things like washing your face and properly brushing your hair. Giving yourself a once-over, you decide you don't look too bad. Just a little lazier than normal but casual enough. Sighing, you depart to class.

Standing in front of the door, you take a deep breath, straighten your back. You can already see his face, his mouth pressed into a hard line. A flicker of disappointment in his eyes. You knock on the door, and wait for it to open. When you hear a soft click, you push the door open, hurrying to your seat. When you sit down, you glance at him and he's already looking at you. Face devoid of any signs of what he's feeling. You pluck the needed supplies out of your bag, and he continues the lesson.

The class goes excruciatingly slow. Focusing seems near impossible, so you resort to scribbling down anything you deem important without actually listening to what he's saying. Which you can only hope doesn't bite you in the ass too much in the future. The class comes to a close, and before you can even think about leaving he's calling your name. You wince, forcing yourself to walk to his desk. He's definitely gonna tear a chunk out of you.

“Sir?” You mutter, ashamed.

“You were late,” he states, plain and simple. His words linger heavily in the air.

“I, um, slept in. I apologize, it was a mistake on my part.” You sputter, fidgeting with the strap of your bag. He lifted his head, eyes piercing into you. Your mouth squeezes shut.

“you slept in,” he echoes, empty. With a stern tone, he adds, “Excuses will not be tolerated, especially after I gave an explicit warning to get yourself together.”

You feel queasy, like your stomach rolling in on itself. You don't know what to say. Your heartbeat pounds in your head, rattles your ribcage, reverberating through your entire body. You don't know what to do that doesn't make you seem more of a fool than you already are. So you say the only thing that's worked for you so far.

“I know, sir. I am truly sorry.”

“Indeed you are,” he purrs as inches closer to you, fingertips dragging against his desk. His intense eye contact frightens you, makes you feel like he'd put a giant red target on you: open prey. A strange, uncomfortable heat flushing your body, feels akin to little fires starting from the tips of your fingers. He stops in front of you, closer than you would deem comfortable, but you couldn't move— something willing you to stay right where you are. A need.

You feel trapped, or rather, you're paralyzed. Even though there's nothing constraining you, and all you have to do is walk out the room. You can't move; his eyes immobilize you, demanding that you stay. Reluctantly, you obey. He settles a hand on your shoulder, “yet, you're not sorry enough to listen.” Before you can defend yourself, his hand slowly starts traveling up, gently wrapping around your neck. You notice, but oddly enough, you choose not to question it. “So, I must ask, what's distracting you? And there's no need for any falsities, my dear.”

You freeze, eyes wide. Dumb and glassy, fawn-like. “it’s- it's really not important, and I promise that I'll straighten out my behavior. It's been a rough week.” you murmur, the tips of your ears burning.

He frowns, hand flexing around your neck. You don't know if it was intentional, but it gets his point across all the same. “Like I said, there's no reason for further deception.”

Sucking in a deep breath and closing your eyes, you mentally agree he's right and getting it off your chest could probably do you some good. “It's you. You're my problem– or my distraction, in your words.”

He doesn't look fazed. In fact, he looks like he knew before you even opened your mouth. He looked like he could tell you every thought you had verbatim. After a moment of silence, he inquires, “how long?”

Innocuous, but still you shy away from him. Your mouth squeezes shut, and your head is about to turn to the side, but he's capturing your face in his hand— forcing you to look at him. His grip is firm, nails lightly digging into the fat of your cheeks.

“since the, um, first day” you murmur, skittish.

He gives a slight nod. He knew you were attracted to him, but he had ignored it. Flicking off your open desire as a fleeting crush. That, like the other girls, you'd move on. Unfortunately for the two of you, you never did. But day after day of seeing the desperation mixed with adoration swirling around in your big, bright doe eyes, even though he would never speak it aloud, stirred something in him. And now, you’re in front of him with your heart in your hands. that pathetic, helpless look on your pretty face. it set something off within him, a spark of heat he couldn't ignore.

“Is that so…” he responds, casually. Offhandedly, even. He’s pensive, looking at you with a blank face. He’s always withdrawn, always hard to read. You never can guess what's going on in that head of his, and that was something you admired. But right now, you wished you could crack open his skull and hear his thoughts for yourself.

The tension is tangible, turning the air thick. You wish he would do anything to rid you of this horrible ache in your chest. Shoo away the sinking pit in your stomach that grows the more his silence drags on.

“Do something,” you whisper. You don't know what to expect. You can't begin to predict what he'll do with your confession, but you figure he'll send you off with a broken heart and your tail tucked between your legs.

His face scrunched up, and then it straightened out. turning eerily calm with a strange sense of resolve. unceremoniously, his mouth crashes into yours. hungry and ravenous. For a second, you didn't reciprocate. you were stupefied by his forwardness. you had expected many things but not a kiss. After gaining your bearings, you carefully carefully began to kiss back, following the pace he had set. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. you whimper, and he lets out a low groan, lapping away the metallic liquid.

your heart hammered in the confines of your chest. you were high off the taste of him. a mixture of mint and nicotine. you wanted more, you wanted everything he was willing to dish out. your hands gripped at the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer. it was so surreal— his warmth, his scent, his lips on yours. it was something you couldn't let fall through your fingers. Then without pulling away, he’s spinning you around, backing you up until you're perched on the edge of his desk.

Your mind is misty. your vision blurs at the edges like a gossamer film is covering it. If it's from the lack of oxygen, or how incredibly unreal the situation is still impossible to ascertain. He pulls away to attach himself to your neck, leaving feverish open mouth kisses on your neck. You can feel him inhaling against your skin, breathing you in. Without warning, he digs his teeth into the thin skin between the junction of your neck and shoulder.

He laves his tongue over the indents left behind, and you take it as a silent apology. James squeezes your thigh, massaging it. You’re soft to the touch, pliant. Almost pillowy. His hand snakes down, down, down. Slipping into your pants, past the band of your panties. His fingers brush against your sensitive clit, and you spread your legs further to give him more room. You're leaking over the pads of his fingers, and he dips lower, collecting it. He smears your wetness on your aching bud in tight, deliberate circles. You let out soft pants, rolling your hips against him, desperate for more contact.

“More,” you whine. A small pout tugging at your plump lips.

“you want more, hm? Such a greedy little thing you are,” he croons, giving your clit a mean pinch. It yanks a squeal out of you. The melange of pain and pleasure confuses you, entices you. You give him a meek nod tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. He plunges two fingers in your needy cunt, and your back curves. He hums, pumping his fingers into you with a steady pace. He rolls your aching nub beneath his thumb. It's methodical, automatic. Downright robotic the way he splits you apart on his nimble fingers. He touches you like he's known you for an entire lifetime, strumming your chords like he knows exactly what to do to make you cry out.

His fingers are long, slender, and so, so pretty. And god does he know how to use them. With pinpoint precision, he's curling his fingers inside of you, pressing that spot inside of you that has your eyes rolling into your skull. You're gushing around him, and the squelch of it is obscene. It's embarrassing how you fall apart merely from his deft fingers. Nonsensical babbles fall from your mouth, too high off pleasure to make sense, but he doesn't seem to mind. Soon, a coil begins to tighten in your groin. A buzzing heat in your lower region. It's undeniable, inescapable.

“M gonna cum, don't stop– please, please, please.” You babble, your fingers gripping for purchase on his desk.

Frissions of pleasure shoot through your body like lightning. Your mouth falls agape, and you tilt your head back. The coil snaps, and you quickly begin to unravel around his fingers. He eases you through it, doesn't stop until you've stopped trembling, and then he's sliding you off the desk. He turns you around, and places a sizable hand on your back, bending you over the table. He hastily tugs your pants down, leaving them bunched up at your mid-thigh.

You feel the tip of his cock probe your entrance. Nervous, you press your warm face against the varnished wood, letting a wave of relief wash over you from its coldness. He doesn't give you time to prepare before he's bottoming out. The stretch burns, a dull incessant ache. You don't realize you're gritting your teeth until the feeling ebbs and shifts into velvety pleasure. To your surprise, his thrusts are a measured pace, rhythmic. Maybe he was taking mercy on you, but he quickly loses the pace for something rougher. Fast and hard, thrusts that jolt you forward, edge of the desk biting into your hips.

“is this what you wanted? to be bent over my desk like the needy little harlot you are.” you let out a high pitched whine at that, cunt fluttering around his cock. he was so crude, so incredibly mean, but he was right. he's so right that it's embarrassing.

you feel a vascular hand wrap around your neck, tugging you into an arch. “say it, tell me this is what you wanted,” he grunts, hips snapping hard against yours, it was downright painful.

“this is what I wanted,” you cry out, nodding your head. “good girl,” he utters, his tone ominously dark. it sent chills racing down your spine. his other hand wraps around your neck, and he begins to squeeze. at first, it's harmless, it's not tight enough to do damage, just applying pressure. it wasn't until he didn't stop squeezing that you started to panic. eyes going wide and glassy, your hands tried to peel his hands away to no avail. so you tried to scratch at them, in hopes that he'd finally pull away. but he didn't budge. your lungs were starting to burn, your thoughts getting increasingly fuzzy.

despite all of this, he didn't stop his ruthless thrusting. your cunt clamped down on his cock, squeezing him for all that he's worth. your vision starts to blur, everything begins melting together. your hands drop back down to the desk, and you can feel yourself going limp in his hold. you couldn't tell if you were simply going to pass out, or if you close your eyes you're going to die, but you didn't want to find out.

a dribble of drool slinks down your chin. your head is throbbing. there's a dull ringing in your ears, and it's becoming harder to keep yourself awake or alive. feeling your eyes closing on their own, you felt stinging tears rushing down your cheeks. then, you felt it, a sudden warmth in your lower region. that familiar ache in your womb. a few more harsh thrusts, and you were leaking all over his cock. he followed suit, thick ropes of cum fill you up soon after. thankfully, he let go. you thought he was going to kill you for a second.

gasping, you lurched forward, letting yourself rest on the desk. your head was spinning and your legs felt like jello. you didn't speak, just laid there. It takes you a minute to collect yourself. Especially after fearing for your life. You were pretty sure he was going to kill you. He pulls out of your wordlessly, slipping his cock back in his pants. Once you convince yourself that you're okay, you pull up your pants. The feeling of his cum gushing out of you is kinda gross but you can deal. You're going straight home anyway so you can wash it off when you get there.

He doesn't say anything until you're walking away, "I hope to see you again tomorrow. We still have much to improve after class."

The implications are enough to have you red-faced and very excited for the day to come. You don't know why you're still fooling around with him. Despite the fact that he may be dangerous. It entices you further like the dumb little girl you are. So, like an idiot, you give a coy smile over your shoulder, "yes, Mr. March. I'll be there."

[slutforgarlogan]

Matching Wounds | James Patrick March x F! reader

Summary: James Patrick March killing you while hes fucking you (sorry guys i had a dream about it and had to write it)

A/N: this is so toned down i got too into the killing part the first time

Warnings: blood!, p in v smut, restraints, reader gets killed but shes in the cortez so she'll be conscious again guys its fine

You tug at the restraints, which are currently making sure both your hands and feet are secured onto the bed. Your chest is heaving and you're getting increasingly nervous, heartrate quickening and inducing you into a panicked state wondering what on earth had made you think this was a good idea.

When you had asked James to do the honours of killing you, so that you could be together forever, it hadn't occured to you that you'd actually have to go through the feeling of being killed. You had just wanted him to shoot you in the head or the heart or something, but it was never going to be that simple when you put your life in the hands of James Patrick March.

James on the other hand, felt the complete opposite to you in this very moment. He was absolutely ecstatic when you had asked him to kill you, and he ran through all the possible ways to do it. Choke you to death, cut you somewhere fatal, snap your neck, shoot you. But what he immediately knew for sure, was that he was going to fuck you while he did it.

After a few days of thinking, also giving you time to go back on the request, he had decided exactly what he was going to do. He was going to slit your throat, so you'd have a permanent wound that matched his own. Which is rather romantic in its own twisted, yet endearing way.

He watches you tug at the restraints that hold you down to the bed, laughing a little bit. "Don't worry darling, i promise this isn't going to be a bad experience for you. I'll make it quick, you wont even notice his happening"

You nod feverishly, though you were scared out of your mind right now, you could never deny the effect that he had on you, pussy clenching around air just from hearing his voice.

You try to relax your body against the sheets, keeping you eyes trained on him carefully, as he sheds himself of his 3 piece and boxers, and uncovering his open neck wound - which you'd only seen him do once before.

You're already squirming by the time hes hovering over you, soaked and desperate for his touch. You lock your gaze with his dark eyes - his gaze somewhat ominous, but loving at the same time.

"I love you, darling" He whispers to you, placing a soft kiss on your temple as he slips his dick into your soaking wet cunt. You whine a little at the stretch, and whisper back to him "I love you too, James"

His hips snap against yours roughly, as he snakes his hand between your bodys to toy with your clit, making you whimper underneath him. The moans that escape his parted lips sound glorious, as breathes out his words "fuck darling, you're always so good for me"

His skin is hot and sticky against yours, and the feel of him buried inside you makes your toes curl as you writhe and whimper beneath him.

He can see you're getting closer, your body giving him the same telltale signs as always. Clenching around his cock, squirming and shaking. The restraints that tie you to the bed leaving deep marks on your wrists at the way you're thrashing beneath him.

As your eyes roll back and you throw your head back, James reaches his free hand over to the bedside table, grabbing his knife and dragging it across your throat as he feels you coat his dick in your release.

He lets out a gutteral groan at the sight in front of him. Your fucked out expression, blood pouring down your neck, trickling down your breasts, and he runs a thumb over your nipple, smearing your blood around it as he waits for you.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Taglist: @lacucarachapisser @the-ultimate-theatre-kid @bluerthanvelvet444 @lvxybby

[l0serloki]

Showtime

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.”

[yandereunsolved]

tw: yandere themes, murder, gore, & a bit of spice

yandere James Patrick March who saw you walking through his hotel halls and had to have you all for himself.

yandere James Patrick March who threatens every entity in his hotel. If anyone so much as touches a hair on your head, they'll end up with a second death at the hands of a suave psychotic mass murderer.

yandere James Patrick March who leaves parts of dead bodies at your door as a present— like how a cat gives their owner a mouse as a sign of affection.

yandere James Patrick March who writes the most intimate and goery love letters to you. He signs off his initials 'JPM' with the blood of his victims. The longer he does it, the more likely it is that he's signed it with his own blood.

yandere James Patrick March who doesn't let you leave, even if you don't realize why. Oh, you are in the city for only a night? Suddenly, everyone you love and care about is sending you text messages about how they don't need how— how you should stay there. You can't pay? The mysterious owner of the hotel has waved all the fees. Your stay is free as long as you are here. Need a job?The hotel has a position has a maid. It's so easy. You barely have any rooms to clean. Are you scared of the hotel? Every ghost (and the handful of living people) are incredibly nice to you. They treat you like a god(dess).

yandere James Patrick March who watches you from the shadows. Whether you be searching for the ice machine or just exploring. He's always there. His eyes analyzing you like a predator who found their favorite prey. He's memorized every curve of your body and every preference of yours.

yandere James Patrick March who protects you while you explore. He's possessive. He's gotta make sure the Countess doesn't get her hands on you. He's gotta make sure that no ghost touches you. He's gotta make sure. Just incase.

yandere James Patrick March who refuses to reveal himself to you as of yet. He adores watching those cogs in your mind turn.

yandere James Patrick March who is obsessed with watching your complex range of emotions. Happiness. Sadness. Anger. Fear. Love. Lust. Adoration. Obsession. Need. Carnal need. All those precious, precious feelings. He needs to see all of those emotions on your delectable little features.

yandere James Patrick March who buys his darling the most expensive delicacies the world can offer. He places them right in front of you when you aren't looking. They always have bloody utensils with them. Just to remind you who it is that you belong to. What he is able to do to anyone that crosses the either of you.

yandere James Patrick March who always kills his victims in your vicinity. When you are sleeping he kills one of them in the next room. It makes his blood pump— thinking about that fearful expression you must be making. That small quiver on your addictive lips that he has not yet had the pleasure to taste. How tempting you must look in your night clothes. Of course, he's a gentleman. He makes sure that you get enough sleep beforehand. He doesn't want his precious jewel having sleep deprivation.

yandere James Patrick March who reveals himself to you right after a fresh kill. Blood is dripping down his bare chest, his pants are slightly unbuttoned, and his boxers are hugging his v-line. He flashes you his award winning smile. He gets down on one knee and presents you with the heart of his latest victim.

yandere James Patrick March who allows himself to indulge in your horrified shrieks. Who wants nothing more than to take you right then and there. Who wants to see the blood all over both of your bodies. Who wants to leaves long lasting marks that will scar you physically and mentally.

yandere James Patrick March who confesses this undying love to you in that very moment. He wants nothing more than to have you in his grasp— hugging, kissing, cuddling, choking, cutting, killing... and everything else in-between.

yandere James Patrick March who will never force himself upon you. He will preach his undying love and manipulate you, but never soil you with unwanted touches. Perhaps a few cuts, though. He sees those things as vastly different.

yandere James Patrick March who left you quickly as he came. He placed the heart on your bed and was gone in the blink of an eye.

yandere James Patrick March who periodically visits you from then on. Sometimes he gifts you things and others he does his best to spark up conversations.

yandere James Patrick March who will gladly threaten you with a weapon to get you to talk to him. He would actually be over the moon. Your fear is intoxicating to him. It makes him all giddy inside. He feels alive.

yandere James Patrick March who always gets that high from you. That special feeling he so zealously covets. That thing that trumps that special high he gets when killing. He's addicted. Addicted to you and your very presence.

yandere James Patrick March who will invite you to private dinners. Who will wear his finest clothing. Then he addresses your concerns and fully tells you everything. He tells you of how he has courted you and of how he confessed his love. He speaks with hearts in his eyes. If you disagree or break his trance... your inevitable death will come much sooner than expected.

yandere James Patrick March who then demands you cut off contact with anyone who presents as male. He doesn't want anyone having a chance with you. He's almost like a toddler in that way. A murderous toddler with a mustache.

yandere James Patrick March who is a dangerous man who lusts after power. A man that has only one weakness— you being able to step out of the hotel. This is only a momentary weakness. Another step in his plan. Do not play the 'I can leave and you can't' card too many times. Lest it fall from your hand and James picks it up.

yandere James Patrick March who immediately moves you into his, now your..., private suite.

yandere James Patrick March who leaves different pieces of clothing he'd like to see you in on your shared bed.

yandere James Patrick March who asks you how he should kill his next victim.

yandere James Patrick March who is ready to make you his eternal bride/groom/partner.

yandere James Patrick March who always makes sure not to scare you too much. His version of too much, mind you. At least until he's trapped you in here for all eternity with him. There's no need for him to rush things. He has all the time in the world.

[marchsfreakshow]

Desperate Pain [James Patrick March]

Uhh,,,,idk this time lol

James saw someone flirt with you. He thinks that since you looked at the man, you were flirting back.

Idk what this is but @coentinim gave me the idea. With some things from @briaroftheroses too<33

18+!! Just because. MINORS DNI.

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Hands desperately tugging behind your back, despite being tied up strongly. And little pleas, crys and whimpers escaping you. "please James, i didn't even say anything to him.."

Oh no, that's not good enough though is it? He's not giving into your desperate cries. Instead he's carrying on his job, making sure this absolutely dreadful man knows what he's done to you. "You see, this, beautiful angel, is in fact, mine." The words beautiful angel dripped with exaggeration, but you knew it to be true. James was simply obsessed with you and your beauty.

The man, simply just asked if you were single and how a pretty thing like you was sat alone at a bar. All you did was look at him! You shot him one single look. A deadpan, neutral face. Now he was pathetically crying, yelling out. His fat being cut, his hands being burned to a crisp.

James knew he couldn't have that. He couldn't have you away from him. You even acknowledged this desperate man? Such a harlot. Do you even love James? Do you even want to keep your promise of being his? He's asking these questions quietly to the half dead, man holding up a knife to the idiot's cock. Just a little cut wouldn't hurt. One slice through the middle. So he really wouldn't hurt your precious cunt. That was his property, only for him to ruin and destroy.

"see what you've done my pretty little harlot? You hurt me so dear." Another desperate whimper left you as he dragged the used knife under your chin. Watery and begging eyes up at him, just wanting to apologise. Such an adorable sight weren't you? Squirming around on the bed as your legs and arms were bound by his bloodied ropes, just wanting to get up and stop James. "I don't think it's fair that he gets it all and you get away free hm?" Oh no. What was it he was planning? Whatever it was, tears were threatening to escape you, making your vision blurred.

James chuckled as he watched you move around on the edge of the bed. "I will not be touching you, anywhere until you have learned your lesson." He whispered right by your ear, even refraining from lightly tracing that cute jaw of yours. "Find other means of pleasure until I say so my dear." You suppressed a sad groan. Your own pleasure was the worst. How on earth could you do that when James can fuck you so good at a moments notice? He'd drop anything if you were desperate enough.

A whimper escaped the two of you out of the seemingly, erotic, eye contact. James' head whipped around to flirting man.

Shot after shot. Bang after bang. Two holes now in the half dead man's heart. If he wasn't dead before, he was dead now. Back to your crying face. The bloody knife still in hand. "how else to make you learn your lesson?" He questioned rehtorically. If it was up to you, you'd let him fuck the idea into your empty head. Getting it through that small, thoughtless head of yours that you. Are. His. Forever.

So, your trousers were ripped off. Discarded on the floor somewhere, and a warm breath on your thighs. He was just torturing a man, why were you so turned on? "Ow..ow, fuck!" You squealed. James' bloody knife in your inner thigh, carving his initials. A raggedy 'JPM' as a way to mark his property. Drops of blood trickling down your thigh, onto the bed. It took every ounce of self control in the ghostly killer to not lick up the irony tasting liquid. He had to keep to his promise. Not touching you, not for a while anyway. So he left it to bleed.

Leaving it to bleed as he worked his way up to your exposed, veiny neck. A J there, P right in the middle and a sweet little M to finish the job. No one could deny that you were his now.

"There. Now, you. Are. Mine. Dangerous bird aren't you?" He chuckled at your dying body. You'd come crawling as a ghost, so he knew not to be upset.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

[babygorewhore]

Act of Contrition

James Patrick March x Virgin! Reader.

Inspired by a post by @ahsjpm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needs to endure the consequences.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m doing what you asked.”

“I am your God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

James moved his head in a short nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“James. I suggest you start praying again.”

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

[fear-is-truth]

𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐓 | 𝕵𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝕻𝖆𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖍 x f!reader | mdni

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: suggestive themes. knifeplay. implied drugging. english is not my first language sorry

• note: first time writing for James… hope it’s not too bad

⟢ for my sister in sin @coentinim

. 𝜗℘

As you slowly come to, the world feels disorienting, like shards of memories trying to piece themselves back together.

Your throat is parched, the lingering taste of alcohol mixing with the remnants of sleep, leaving a bitter aftertaste.

Panic begins to rise. At first, you think it’s dark out, the pitch-black void pressing in on you from all sides. But then you notice the texture of fabric against your eyelids—your eyelashes flutter against the cloth of a blindfold.

What the fuck?

You try to move, but your arms refuse to budge. The tight bindings around your wrists intensify the sense of helplessness, and you realize you’re bound in a sitting position on a couch, the coarse rope digging into your skin.

“You’ve awakened, my dear,” a male voice intoned with a touch of amusement.

“Have a good sleep?”

That accent. It sounds.. off. As if it belongs to an old timey black and white film. You struggle to speak but the words catch in your throat.

“All in good time, my dear,” the voice replies, smooth as a frozen pond in winter.

“-All in good time, no need to rush.”

Fingertips graze your cheekbone, caressing the apple of your cheek. A coldness sends a shiver down your spine and you flinch away instinctively, shrinking into the back of the couch. The hand withdrew.

“Where am I? Who are you?”

you manage to croak, the words are dry and brittle like dead beetles tumbling out of your mouth.

“Ah, you don’t remember? Tsk. How about we take a little stroll down memory lane, my dear?”

the unseen stranger suggests, in a coaxing tone. You feel his hand tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Memories flicker back in snippets—checking in, the grandiose lobby with its opulent decor, the unnaturally lack of occupants. The carpet was a rich burgundy, that you remembered. There was a grey-haired, frumpy-looking old woman at the reception desk, her comically large glasses perched on her nose…

But beyond that, the rest are hazy, slipping through your grasp like sand. The hand that had been so gentle moments before now snake to your jaw, then to your neck, its fingers exerting pressure against your jugular.

You feel something icy, pressing against your collarbone gently. For a minute, it doesn’t puncture the skin. It slides down, passing the valley between your breasts and to your belly, perfectly cutting your chemise in half.

The cold steel of a blade sends a new wave of fear. The whisper of fabric ripping is nearly silent, but in the heightened state of your senses, it sounds more like thunder. You can’t see, can’t move, and now, with the threat of an unseen blade, you can’t even breathe properly.

Your nipples were hard, partly because of the chilly air, and partly… no. It can’t be. You weren’t aroused. It must’ve been the chill.

“Shh, my dear,”

the voice soothes, and was it your paranoia? Or did you sense a smile in his tone?

“we wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself struggling, now would we?”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay still despite every instinct telling you to scream. The bindings on your wrists and ankles feel tighter than ever.

“Remember, I promised I’d help you recollect, his voice honeyed with sinister delight. As if it were a game. Which, to him, probably is.

“Let’s start with this charming hotel. Pray tell, do you happen to remember the name?”

“The Cortez?”

“Correct. After you checked in, you had a drink, didn’t you?” The voice continues. “A lovely glass of vermouth, just the way you like it. That’s when things started to get…interesting.”

“No,” you correct him suddenly, the memory snapping into place. “The bartender—Liz? she recommended absinthe. I tried that instead.”

The voice chuckles, delighted.

“Very good, darling,” he says, a hint of approval in his tone. “You are starting to remember.

You remember now—the taste of the drink, bitter yet oddly compelling, the way your vision had started to blur shortly after. You had felt dizzy, unsteady, and then... nothing. Until now.

Fuck, you’ve probably been roofied. This was some sort of sick, 1930’s roleplay.

“Why are you doing this?” you implore, summoning all the strength you can muster.

“What do you want from me?”

The blade withdraws, and you hear the sound of it being sheathed. The hand on your neck loosens its grip but doesn’t release you. Instead, it pulls you forward ever so slightly, until you can feel his breath brushing against your ear. A chill creeps into the air, as if the temperature has dropped ten degrees—surely his breath can’t be so cold that it sends goosebumps blooming across your skin.

“Why?” he echoes, almost amused.

“Because, my dear, I find you... fascinating.”

Ad if that explains everything. He lets go of your neck and begins pacing, the sound of his footsteps a metronome of dread. The blindfold is suddenly whipped off, and you blink against the harsh light.

As your eyes adjust, you see him—impeccably dressed in a black suit with a crisp white shirt and a perfectly tied bow tie. Dark hair is slicked back, and a neatly trimmed moustache sits above a pair of lips curled into a charming smile— the kind of smile the big bad wolf gives little red riding hood before he rips her throat out. All the better to eat you with, my dear.

“You’re my date to Devils Night, my dear.”

.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[nyrasbloodyclover]

ok so hear me out...

[her-favorite]

this is a re-upload bc for some reason it kept glitching at the end??

OBSESSED

James Patrick March x F!Reader

Summary: James has aways been obsessed with you.. but what happens when you find out?

Warnings: smut!

a/n: scamp is old slang for a worthless fellow; a rascal - i like writing smut too much, not proofread!!!

wc: 2666

-

You sat at the bar of the Hotel Cortez, tapping your nails against the polished wood counter. Liz supplied you with refills every time you drank all of the alcohol. You let out a long breath, resting your hands on your face, elbows holding you up. You blinked back the tears that formed behind your eyelids.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" You head shot up, Liz's question taking you off guard. You exhale again, putting your arms down to lay on the counter. You never made eye contact with her, too shame-filled to make any sort of connection.

"I just.. am I not lovable?" Your answer made Liz shoot up from her slouched position. Her mouthed opened quickly, trying to get something out before you kept talking. But you didn't let her. "I don't remember the last time I got asked out on a date. I mean, I always thought that maybe I isolated myself from others, but something just feels different. Am I that bad?" The tears from earlier reformed, quickly falling down your cheeks. You harshly wiped at them.

"Y/N, you have got to be kidding. You are truly one of the most beautiful women to come up to this bar. What I would do to look like you." She gave you a pointed look, before leaning down and picking up ingredients and picking up your glass again. She started mixing. "And, honestly," She paused for a moment, debating her options. "I may be wrong, but, I'm pretty sure March has been telling the ghosts and the people that walk into this hotel that you're off limits." She whispered, looking from left to right to make sure no one was there or listening.

Sally sat in the far back, her cigarette hanging between her two fingers. Before you could say anything or even have a reaction, you heard her laugh. "Yep! Heard James yapping at some poor kid the other day. 'You stay away from her, you scamp! You have zero cognition, nor are you worthy for a goddess like her!'" She recited, barking out another laugh, before taking a long drag from her stick.

You sat there, frozen. You James March to a certain extent. You were still human, unlike most at the Cortez, but you've stayed so long that you felt one with them. You had several confrontations with the dead owner, but he had never showed any sort of interest in you. At least not in that way.

"Wait.." You sat as still as you could, trying to process all of the information that just unfolded.

"You didn't know that March had taken an interest in you?" Liz asks, cleaning the counter and putting things away. You shook your head slightly, still lost in your thoughts.

You weren't exactly opposed to it. Whether the elegant man was talking to you or one of the ghosts, you never could break the eye contact between you and the way you admired him. You always found it odd when your chest tightened every time you heard or saw James with the Countess, but it now made you realize that it was jealousy that you got struck with.

James was quite literally the most beautiful man you have ever saw. His gelled hair, the sharp jawline, his beautiful nose. And those lips, god. You'd be lying if you said that you never thought about what they felt like.

But how come all of this is just making sense now?

"He's not very secretive about it, honey." Liz continues, resting her arms on the counter as she waits for your reaction. The two women stand there, waiting. Sally gets up from her seat and walks over to you. She sits down next to you at the bar, never letting go of her cigarette.

"Well, I'll tell you this," She takes another drag, inhaling the smoke, waiting for it to fill her lungs. "That man is absolutely obsessed with you. I mean, I think it's kinda creepy, but," She shrugs. "I guess I can't really say anything." She grips a bottle of alcohol, her rings stinging the glass, the loud sound reverberating through the tall, open room.

Your heart races as she talks. Once Liz and Sally start their own conversation, everything sounds muffled. Fog interrupts your mind, making your thoughts scatter. Before you knew any better, you got up from your seat, running towards the elevator.

"Sweetie, where are you going?" You hear Liz yell, once she realizes you're gone.

"I'm going to find answers."

-

You walk down the eery hallway, silence filling the air. Your fast footsteps echoed off the walls, showing your determination. Once you reach the door, you quickly walk in, not caring if he was in there or not.

As soon as you step foot inside, his back immediately turned to you. His white shirt was clean and ironed, his hair was perfectly slicked back, those pants showing off his long legs, and his cane in his right hand.

"Dear! What are you doing here at this time?" He takes a quick look at the grandfather clock on the other side of the room. It read: 11:38 pm.

"What is wrong with you?" You ask, not yelling, but your tone showed your irritation. He looked taken back, but slowly steps forward.

"Pardon?" His voice is laced with genuine confusion, his thin eyebrows furrowed. He's still a couple feet away from you, leaning on his cane.

"Why do you keep telling people that 'I'm off limits?'" You quote, your jaw clenched and your eyes piercing his.

"Oh, dear," He blows out air, his shoulders dropping. He looks off in the distance, trying to collect his words. "Y/N, dearest, you deserve better than those fools that walk into my Hotel." His sharp accent accentuating his point. "You are a goddess, made to have someone worship you from their knees." He sets his cane to rest on a table, walking over towards you in big strides. "Any man or woman that sets their eyes on you deserve to be killed because they don't deserve your attention. Anyone that lays a finger on you will not make it out alive because of me." He explains, looking deep into your eyes.

"But.. why? I don't understand, you barely know me- we barely talk! You can't just.." Your labored breathing takes over, the thought of James killing someone because of you making you feel sick.

"Oh, no, my love.. I do know you." A smile forms on his lips, inches away from you. "You know that I'm always with you. You know that I admire you from afar, watching the way that you laugh with Cleopatra at the bar, or.. when you have drinks with the other ghosts. But as soon as I see you with another human in my building.." He tsks, walking around you. "You know that I can't let them live." He whispers in your ear, resting his hands on your shoulders. His raspy voice sends shivers down your spine, your thighs clenching together. A deep laugh sounds in your ear, heat rushing to your face when you realize that he saw you squirm in his hold.

"You like that don't you, darling? That I would kill for you, that I would do anything for you." You felt his body press against your back, getting as close to you as possible. He never heard any protest, taking it as a green light to keep going.

"You are absolutely tantalizing, my love." He teases, his fingers slowly making their way up and down your arms. He felt the goosebumps raise on your skin, a sly smile overcoming his face. "Are you nervous?" He whispers, his hands drift down to your hips, grabbing it harshly, making you gasp.

"No." You lie, your voice cracking. James lets out another small chuckle, wrapping his right hand around your stomach, pushing you backwards, into his chest.

"Don't lie to me, my dear." He leans down to press his face into your neck, his nose tickling your skin. "I can all but hear your heart race, darling." His voice was slightly muffled by your neck, his moving lips tickling you. He presses little kisses against your soft skin, leading down to your collarbone.

Your body instantly envelops with cold air once you feel his presence leave you. Before you could turn around, James stood in front of you with his hand stretched out for you to grab. You obliged, making him smile. He brought you over to his neatly made bed, the back of your legs pressed against the end of the bed. He took both of your hands in each of his, bringing them up to his lips and kissing them.

"Do you consent to this, dearest?" His voice was calmer than it was before. Your heart melted at his words. nodding. Maybe waiting for him was the right decision.

He smiled wide, right hand reaching out to cup your cheek. He leaned down and set his lips on yours, taking your bottom lip between his. You moaned into the kiss when you felt him bite down on the plush skin. He smirked, your reaction already causing an effect on him.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, bringing him closer to you. You press your body against him, both of you groaning at the friction. His hands lay on your waist, tightening when he starts to lean forward and set you down on the bed. He hovers over you, admiring your features.

He traces your face, fingers barely pressing down, just hovering over your skin. "You are absolutely ravishing, my goddess." You almost whimper at the name, your eyes fluttering shut. James leans down again, pressing soft kisses against your skin. He slowly works on your shirt, telling you when to lift your arms so he could lift it off of you.

"The first time I make love to you, will be on this bed, not some unworthy floor." He whispers into your skin, moving away just to throw your shirt somewhere. He looks back down at you, watching over you like a hawk. His hands traced over your body, moving up to traced his thumbs over your clothed nipples. Your back arched, wanting more. He hummed, reaching behind your back (with your help of moving slightly, to give him a better angle) and unclipping your bra.

"You are so gorgeous, my love. Absolutely stunning." He praised, calloused hands reaching out and cupping your breasts. He leans down again, kissing and sucking on your nipple and skin. As he mouthed down your stomach, his hands moving down to undo your pants and pull them down.

"James," You whine, catching his attention. "You're wearing too much." You say as he throws away your pants. He chuckles deep from his throat.

"Of course, my dear." He clicks at his suspenders and unbuttons his white shirt. You reach out for him, raking your fingers over his body. Now it was your turn to undo his pants. He laughed at your eagerness, helping you by kicking his dress pants some place on the floor. "Lay back, my darling. Let me take care of you." He whispers, pressing kisses against your abdomen. His fingers play with the waistband of your panties, silently asking you if he could take them off. You nod against the soft, white pillow.

He slowly slides the fabric down your legs, spreading your legs. He immediately leans forward, licking a line up your slit. He groans, "You taste divine, my darling." He quickly dived back in, making your back arch.

"God.. James!" You moan, your hand gripping his hair tightly. He groans against you, vibrating your skin.

"Yes, dear, I am your God." His voice seemed deeper than usual, deepening your arousal. He sucked at your clit, his hands under your thighs, digging his nails into the plush skin. His tongue prods at your entrance, immediately pushing inside and moving around. You moaned his name over and over, James' boxers getting tighter and tighter by the second.

He pulled you in by the thighs, bringing you impossibly closer to him and his mouth. He was addicted to the taste of you. It was so much better than the alcohol and cigarettes he drinks and smokes; this was genuine lust. James didn't believe in any sort of religion, but you tasted like straight heaven. You were an absolute goddess and James was blessed to be able to walk on the same ground as you.

"Come on, dearest. You can do it, cum for me." One of his fingers comes down and spreads your folds. He pushes a finger inside you, his swollen pink lips latching onto your clit again. He pumps the finger in and out, adding a second one when he feels you clench tightly around it. His groans were muffled by you, making your body rake with pleasure. Your hips jerked up one last time, before coming undone on his fingers. As you moaned, James praised you through it, pulling his fingers out once he feels you calm down.

"You are such a doll, my beloved." He kisses back up your body, until he hovers his face over yours. You both smile, leaning up to press your lips against his. Your hands cup his face, bringing his lips closer to yours. One of your hands slides down his body, gripping the waistband, signaling you needed his help to take them off. One arm rests beside your head, holding him up and the other guides the undergarment down his legs and off on the ground. His forearms came back up to rest beside your head, occasionally slipping down to touch you.

"Are you ready, my darling?" He asked, his tip sliding between your folds. Your breath was caught in your throat, nodding instead of speaking.

He pushed in, both of you groaning in unison. Your nails dug into his back and shoulders, creating deep crescent marks in his pale skin. You avoided the large gash in his throat that signified he was dead, bringing one hand back into the nape of hair on his neck.

He hit a certain spot inside you, making you jolt. He chuckled, thrusting harder. "I think I found your spot, dearest." His voice had gotten raspier, if even possible. It sent a chill down your back, adding to your immense pleasure.

"Oh, James.." You moaned, clinging to his body. He groaned in your ear, never stopping his movements. His right hand drifted down your body, the ring on his pinky finger sending another shiver through you.

"You're so good for me, my dear. Come undone for me, love, please. You can do it, just relax." He coaxed you through it, two fingers reaching down to circle your clit. Your hips stutter and your back arches.

You moan as you reach your climax, euphoria taking over your body. As soon as James feels you clench around him and your release, he lets out a guttural moan, thrusting faster inside you.

"My goddess.. Y/N!" He exclaims, letting go. Once you both relax, James pulls out of you, laying down beside you on the bed. You both were heavy breathing, moving your heads to look at each other. "My darling," He was breathless, but brought his hand up to rest on your cheek and press his lips to yours. "Will you be my queen?"

You didn't hesitate to tell him yes. He smiled, leaning down again to kiss you. "Wait," You pull away. "Did you cum inside me?" Your eyes were wide as you saw him smirk.

"Well, dear, it looks like you're going to be mine forever."

[taintandviolent]

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.