#james patrick march x reader fluff

[violet-harmon2011]

to my favorite serial killer, clown, cult leader, hairstylist, vampire, playwright, actor, hotel owner, lobster man, circus performer, zombie, frat boy, and mechanic <3

[bluerthanvelvet444]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝙿𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Frat boy Kyle Spencer x fem!reader

tags: slight angst, fluffy smut!

warnings: swearing, public sex, mentions of Kyle's abuse (poor baby), handjob, p in v.

summary: frat boy kyle being a sweetheart. that's all i have to say.

character count: 11k.

full fic under the cut ↓

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“I'm not going.” You replied, your voice firm and your eyes fixated on the math book that sat on the library's desk, trying to avoid the gaze-that you knew you couldn't resist-of the boy sitting in front of you. You heard him sigh as his doe eyes desperately tried to meet yours.

“But everyone is going…you can't miss it.” Kyle replied with his soft voice.

“I've never gone to any of those parties…why do you want me to go to this one so badly?” You spoke, with a noticeable hint of frustration in your voice.

“Because it's the end of the semester…something to celebrate. Plus, it's gonna be epic.” He said with a toothy smile plastered on his face.

“No, thanks. You know I don't roll with those frat boys.” You rolled your eyes, your words coming out harsh and spiteful.

“I'm a frat boy.” He said, raising an eyebrow, clearly confused by your statement.

“Yea- but you're…different.” You sighed.

It was true. He was indeed different from the frat boys he was friends with. You and Kyle met in Junior year of high school. You were paired up by your physics teacher, who suggested you could tutor Kyle, that at the time had terrible grades. You two clicked instantly, he was fun and outgoing, and you enjoyed spending time with him. Kyle had grown to be incredibly thankful for your help, in fact, he insisted that you were the one who made him passionate about physics, the subject that he used to despise and that now was his main department in college. Although he could seem like the usual asshole frat boy, Kyle was sweet and caring. You knew it, and no one could’ve made you change your mind on that. He was simply a sweetheart.

“Listen, I know my mates may seem rude or not well-behaved…but trust me, as a leader, I established some rules for them. They won’t act crazy, I promise.” His kind voice brought you back from your thoughts. You sighed, thinking about it.

“Brennan’s hosting the party in his summer mansion…it’s next to the beach- it’s so cool, I swear. I-I’ll take you there! I can pick you up and take you home…” He added, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Please?” He said in an adorable voice, his puppy eyes looking hopeful into yours.

You sighed, you didn’t wanna go, but it was utterly impossible to say no to him.

“Fine.”

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You were touching up your makeup. You were ready for the “big night” Kyle was so excited about. You decided to wear something a bit more revealing, a black minidress, because-okay, you didn’t wanna go- but you couldn’t be annoyed and unfashionable all at once.

While taking a final look in the mirror, you heard a knock on your door. You grabbed your bag and opened the door to see Kyle-in his usual frat sweater-smiling at you. He looked at you up and down, scaring you slightly. What if he didn’t like the dress or how it looked on you?

Fortunately, all your concerns faded once you saw his smile widening.

“Woah…you look beautiful. Seriously…you’re stunning.” He said, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, he wasn’t used to seeing you like this.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the compliments.

“Thank you…” You gave him an awkward smile and bit your lip.

“Shall we get going?” You suggested, to which he nodded. He took your hand and helped you step down the porch. Kyle led you to his car, and opened the door for you with a cute grin.

The ride was calm, you chit-chatted here and there about random stuff, and you swore you saw him staring at your body a few times. After 15 minutes or so, you eventually arrived at the party. Kyle was right, the mansion was beautiful and it faced the sea. You could see lights and music blasting out of the house. He gave you an excited grin and helped you out of the car, walking with you inside the house. It was overflowing with people laughing, playing games and having fun. As much as it seems hard to believe, you didn’t know anyone of those many people. They had familiar faces, sure, but you couldn’t consider them your actual friends. You sighed and nervously looked at Kyle who, on the other side, was flashing smiles to all his fellow frat brothers and friends. You noticed how comfortable he was in his habitat, and how you envied him for that. He introduced you to many people-whom you couldn’t even remember the names of-that obviously didn’t care much about getting to know you, since they even could’ve sworn you did not go to that college. You were invisible even when the attention was on you, and Kyle clearly didn’t catch that. So when he was dragged by his mates to some kind of game, he told you with a chuckle and a rushed tone

“I-I’ll be right back! Chat with the girls, they’re fun!”

Fun. Right. You didn't mean to sound like an antisocial bitch, but they were everything but fun. You saw them from afar just taking pictures of each other-to show on Instagram how much fun they were pretending to have having-or teasing each other about their crushes. You felt bored, so you sat on a chair, sipping a cup of-what you hoped was-punch and waited for Kyle. Time passed, and he didn’t show up, so you got up and started searching for him. It didn’t take you much to find him. Kyle was on the karaoke stage, singing “Rosanna” by Toto.

“Meetcha all the way! Nananaaaaah…” He “singed” while laughing with his mates.

You were conflicted on what to do now. You didn’t want to be a bummer by clinging to him all night, but you were truly bored and felt lonely. So, you did what you believed was best for everyone, you grabbed your stuff and left. The moment you stepped outside, you were met by an unfamiliar feeling of peace, the view surprising you for its beauty and for being so…empty. It was quiet, the only sound that could be heard were the waves splashing against the sand, no people around. You smiled and made your way to the pier nearby. You sat on it and took your shoes off, allowing your feet to sink in the water.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you were brought back to reality when you felt Kyle's voice behind you.

“Here you are! I searched for you everywhere!” He was breathing fast, you believed he had been running while seeking for you.

“I thought I left you a message?” You tilted your head.

“Oh… Sorry. I can’t find my phone. Why are you all alone here? The whole fun is inside!” He replied with a giant boyish smile.

“I like it better here. It’s boring inside.” You turned your face to look at the sea again.

“What? How can you call it boring? There are plenty of games! And people inside-” you cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

“Kyle, I hate to break it to you, but I’m not popular like you. The people inside couldn’t care less about me. I feel less lonely here than in that crowded house.”

He looked at you confused.

“Aw, c’mon…don’t be like this. They’re nice people, you just have to make an effort to try to meet them, and I’m sure you’ll have fun.” You didn’t know why those words started a fire in you.

“They’re not my friends, Kyle. I can’t stand those people, I don’t get along with them. And trust me, I’ve tried to be social and friendly, but you may have to consider the idea that not everyone is like you. You’re easygoing and social, you're a freaking frat boy for fuck’s sake. It’s easy for you to say those things.”

He looked at you, mouth agape at your sudden outburst.

“…why didn’t you just tell me?” He looked at you like a sad puppy for bringing you somewhere that made you uncomfortable.

“And be more of a bummer? No, thanks. They already hate me, I don't wanna be a party pooper as well.” You crossed your arms.

He sat next to you on the pier and his fingers gently grazed your jaw to make you look at him.

“You’re not a bummer to me…a-and I’m sorry about that… I shouldn’t have left you alone. Sorry.”

You wanted to be mad at him, truly, but those cute brown eyes melted your heart in every way possible. You bit your lip as you admired him lovingly. He was so caring and sweet, how did you manage to get this lucky?

“I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable, I- that’s the last thing I’d ever want. You know I care about you… I can’t stand you being mad at me. Please, forgive me?”

You felt your heart tighten at those words. You gave him a slight nod as your eyes travelled down his lips. You wanted to kiss him so badly, and he probably caught onto that, since he slowly leaned in to meet your lips in a sweet kiss. He pulled away slightly, mumbling against your lips.

“Was that okay?” You nodded, and he leaned in again, kissing you once more. This time he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue slip in your mouth and softly swirling it around yours. You let out a breath at how right that felt and how sweet he was being. You pulled him slightly closer and moved your hand to rest on his neck and caress the skin of it. After a bit, you moved your lips to peck his jaw a few times before trailing them down on his neck. Your lips worked sweetly on his skin at first, earning a few sighs from him. As the tension grew, you started sucking his neck, leaving red marks. He groaned and grabbed your waist, you subtly moved your hand down to massage the bulge from his pants. He let out a tiny gasp, and you felt him stiffen, not in a good way. You looked up at him with a confused expression.

“I-I’m sorry…please keep going…” He said with a nervous smile.

“What’s wrong? Did you not like that? It’s okay if you don’t want to…” You gave him a comprehensive look.

“No! I like that… I swear. Just…bad memories.”

“Do you wanna talk about it…?”

“No, I just wanna feel good now.”

You nodded and gave him a gentle peck on his lips before gently undoing his zipper. You ran your fingers over the visible shape of his dick through his underwear, earning a groan from him. You looked at him for consent before gently pulling his boxers down. You blushed as you saw him so vulnerable for the first time. Your fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking him slowly. He let out a breathy moan.

“G-god…don’t stop…”

You smiled and started progressively speeding up. After a few minutes, you heard his moans grow louder, and you felt his strong hand gripping your wrist.

“I…wanna do it. Is that okay?”

You nodded, and he sat up to gently remove your dress and everything underneath. He was stunned by your body, staring at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He helped you lay down, with a massive gentleness, as if you were capable of breaking if handled too roughly. He hovered on top of you, caressing your face as he lined up your entrance with his dick.

“This okay?” He muttered under his breath, to which you answered with a nod. He gently pushed into you, allowing you to adjust to the new feeling. He groaned when he pushed himself all the way in. He held your hand sweetly.

“Can I start moving?”

“Mhm…”

He slowly started thrusting in you, earning moans from you both. He gripped your hand tighter as he felt how your walls clenched around him. When he felt like you were ready, he started going faster, gripping your hand tightly and kissing you repeatedly through the whole thing. You could've sworn you were seeing stars when he started hitting your G-spot with his tip. Soon enough, your moans got louder and you felt yourself coming on his dick. He tried his best to contain his moans and as soon as you finished he pulled out to come on your tummy. He collapsed onto you, pecking your face repeatedly.

“I love you…” He mumbled.

After some time had passed, he got up and cleaned you with the salty water, giggling like a teen boy receiving his first kiss. When he helped you gain your-and his-decency again, he got up, throwing an arm around you and walking happily towards his car.

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a/n: I love Kyle he's so babygirllll. also look at the cute picture i found on pinterest (the one under the title) that boy looks so much like kyle. got me screaming when I saw it. Anywaysssssss. I might post a part 2 of this with frankenkyle, but I gotta finish Peter fics first (spoiler). Let me know if you like it💕💕

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all rights reserved!!

[fear-is-truth]

a/n — “i like noses. i like big noses because, well, because you can kind of like, you can, like, sit on them.” — doja cat

you’re sprawled out on the couch, tangled in a mess of limbs, the room quiet except for the faint hum of the tv in the background. your legs are slung lazily over evan’s shoulder, and his chin rests on your stomach as he absentmindedly traces circles on your skin. you’re barely awake, drifting in and out of that sweet spot between sleep and consciousness.

“i love your nose,” you mumble, voice slurred with sleep.

“it’s so pretty.”

he lets out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating against you. “seriously? my nose?” evan repeats, his fingers pausing their little pattern.

“mmhm.” your eyes flutter open just enough to catch his amused smile—the one that makes his dimples show. your heart stirs at the sight. he leans down, brushing his lips against your thigh in a soft kiss that sends warmth pooling through your body.

“you’re something else, you know that?” he says, his voice low, playful, but there’s a sweetness there, too. his thumb gently caresses your skin, and you can’t help but smile.

your too tired to respond with more than a soft hum, letting the comfort of the moment wash over you. he kisses your inner thigh again, softer, slower this time, like molasses. telling you without words how much he adores you.

“go back to sleep, babygirl,” he whispers, his chin finding its place back on your stomach, and you do, with a smile on your lips and the feel of his kisses lingering on your skin.

[kai-anderson-whore]

The summoning (jmp x tate Langdon x reader smut)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hauntedrose555]

[jazz-berry]

James Patrick March x gn!reader jazzy's birthday celebration

James watches intently as you take a bite of the cake.

"Well? How is it my dear?"

"I love it" you say softly, still a little puzzled. The entire day, James had seemed anxious, shouting at you "don't come in yet!" and "it's a surprise!" and just for a cake? Ms. Evers makes you a beautiful and mouthwatering cake every year, so what was so different this time?

James beams at your words and urges you on. "You do? I know it's your favorite flavor."

You nod in acknowledgement. "It's delicious, and I love the design."

"I made it myself!"

Wait what?

You look at James with wide eyes and he grins happily, like a puppy being rewarded. "I asked Ms. Evers to teach me. I know you always act modest whenever I spoil you with riches. Obviously I still spoiled you today, but I also tried to do something a little more personal."

You continue staring at James in awe. He seems so proud of himself, and he really tried his best to make your birthday cake. You get out of your seat and walk over to his, sitting down on his lap and draping your arms around his neck.

"Thank you my love."

Your husband just smiles and lovingly kisses your cheek before cutting another slice.

november 7th attendees: @lemoniiiiiii @n0tonlin3 @wcnderlnds @darlingmarch @americanwh0rerstory @divinerulersslut @american-horror-whore @evanpetersbf @strawb3rrystar @bohnerrific69 @marchsfreakshow @violetsghosts @majestyjade @the-daughter-of-dahmer @mistysconcilium @dearlizzies @tiffysdeath @oceanblvd111 @lisboncy @marchbirdie @whosbloom @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @icedheartss @slut4evanpeters @hoe4kai @frankenkyle19 @sadweirdblogger929 @mooniehoneyrey @vizjpmdose @colinzabelswife @langdonss @ohimjustagirlidrathetnotbe @evanpeterswifeyyy @lacucarachapisser

[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

[ahqkas]

♯ HIRAETH ; james patrick march

PAIRING! james patrick march x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! hiraeth (n.) — a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was, the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

WORD COUNT! 6.8k

WARNINGS / TAGS! angsttt, reader is described to have hair, mention of love making + lmk of more if found !

NOTES! found a collection of podcasts that reminded me a bit too much of james , this work is inspired by dangerously yours’ masquerade !! all the credits to the devider below belong to @/menschenopfer

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE YEAR WAS 1927, AND LOS ANGELES WAS A CITY OF DREAMS, BEAMING WITH AMBITION, GLAMOUR, AND DARKNESS OF ITS OWN. The Hotel Cortez, with its imposing façade of carved stone and gleaming brass, towered over the busy streets below. It was a sanctuary for the elite, a place where luxury met mystery, and where secrets were buried deep within its intimidating walls.

The heavy doors of the hotel creaked open, and in stepped a woman whose presence commanded attention. She was the very meaning of old-world elegance, a figure that seemed to have stepped out of the newest magazine. Her [color] hair was styled in gentle waves that framed her face, and her eyes, sharp and enigmatic, glimmered with a secret knowledge. She wore a tailored traveling dress of navy blue, the fabric clinging to her form in a manner that was both modest and alluring. A black cloche hat sat atop her head, its wide brim casting a shadow over her striking features.

As you crossed the marble threshold, the polished floors beneath your heels echoed with each deliberate step. The hotel lobby was a grand room of the hotel, adorned with chandeliers that bathed the space in warm, golden light. The walls were lined with dark, rich wood paneling, and the air was filled with the faint scent of jasmine and the lingering aroma of fine cigars. Guests shuffled around in the lobby, their conversations a murmur of excitement, but their eyes discreetly turned to the striking woman who had just entered.

A hotel worker, dressed smartly in a bellboy uniform of crisp white and black, approached you with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to catering to the wealthy and powerful. He couldn't help but be taken aback by your appearance, the way you moved with an effortless grace that seemed to belong to someone your status.

"Good evening, madam," he said, his voice respectful but tinged with curiosity. His eyes darted briefly to your luggage — a single, exquisitely crafted leather bag, monogrammed with the initials that possibly belonged to you.

Without pausing, you handed him your smooth gloves, your tone cool and commanding. "Have my bag sent to Suite 81," you instructed, words clipped and precise.

The bellboy hesitated for only a moment before snapping to attention. "Yes, ma'am!" he replied, taking the bag with both hands as if it contained something made out of glass, something precious. He hurried off toward the elevator, casting a final, awed glance back at you.

You continued your way through the lobby and a low hum of conversation followed after you. Guests and staff alike seemed to recognize you, though none dared to approach you directly. Your reputation, it seemed, followed you as well.

"Good evening, Countess [Last name]!" came a cheerful greeting from one of the hotel's attendants, a middle-aged man with a handlebar mustache who had seen many notable figures pass through the Cortez's doors, but none quite like you.

You turned your head slightly in his direction, your lips curling into a polite smile that did not quite reach your eyes. "Good evening," you replied, voice smooth and cultured, with a hint of an accent that spoke of faraway lands.

The attendant bowed slightly as you passed, and within moments, another voice, this time a younger woman in the concierge uniform, echoed through the lobby. "Welcome back, Countess [Last name]!" her voice was filled with genuine warmth and you didn't understand where did this come from.

The evening had settled over Los Angeles. The grand dining room of the hotel was appearing in art deco luxury, with its dark wood accents, gold-leafed walls, and crystal chandeliers casting a warm, inviting light over the tables set with fine china and silverware. The clinking of glasses and soft murmur of conversation filled the air and created something nostalgic to your heart.

You entered the dining room with the same air of composed grace that had marked your entrance into the hotel. Your eyes swept the room, taking in the diners who were engaged in their meals and conversations and you felt a pang of jealousy upon the sight. Their lives were so normal in comparison with yours.

As you approached the maître d's podium, the head waiter, a distinguished man with a neatly trimmed mustache and a tuxedo that fit him like a second skin, stepped forward. He recognized you immediately, the elegant Countess, and inclined his head in a deep bow.

"A table for one, ma'am?" his voice was practiced with the ease of someone who had served wealthy guests for years, though there was a slight quiver in his voice — perhaps a trace of the unease that always seemed to accompany you.

You, with your face expression as unreadable as ever, allowed yourself a brief pause before responding. Your eyes flicked past him, scanning the room once more, searching for something — or rather, someone.

"Is . . . James Patrick March dining?" you asked, voice soft but with an undercurrent of something that hinted at more than just casual interest.

The maître d' hesitated only for a heartbeat before answering, his gaze following yours toward the far end of the room. "Oh, he's at the table by the window, ma'am," he replied and a hint of curiosity crossed his tone as he gestured subtly toward the large, arched windows that overlooked the city's nightscape.

There, seated at a table clothed in the soft glow of candlelight, was James Patrick March. He was dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit with a crisp white shirt and a tie that was just slightly loosened, giving him an air of a casual someone. His posture was relaxed, yet there was an intensity in the way he glanced through the room, as if every detail, every movement was a piece in a grand, invisible game. A game that belonged to him. His dark hair was slicked back, and his piercing eyes, though cast downward at the moment, seemed to take in everything around him.

Your gaze lingered on him, breath catching slightly as the history the two of you shared played out in your mind — something you've never been able to erase from your memories. Your hand tightened around the strap of your formal handbag, the storm of rage already forming inside you.

"Thank you," you murmured to the maître d', who, sensing that his services were no longer required, bowed once more and stepped aside.

With a final, steadying breath, you made your way across the dining room, your steps measured and elegant, drawing the eyes of more than a few guests who wondered at the purpose of your approach. You moved with the grace of a woman who knew how to command a room's attention without asking for it, but there was also a tension to your movements, a barely concealed edge that hinted at the true intentions of your visit.

As you neared the table, March's dark eyes lifted from his glass of alcohol, catching yours in a gaze that was both intimate and unreadable. He leaned back slightly in his chair and a slow, amused smile played at the corners of his lips as he watched you approach, as if he had been expecting you all along.

"Countess [Last name]," he greeted you, his voice smooth and rich with a hint of that accent you both despised and adored. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You met his gaze evenly, your own smile small and controlled, but there was a fire in your eyes that belied your calm exterior.

"Mr. March," the way his name rolled out of your mouth shouldn't sound so lovingly. Your voice was steady, though your heart raced beneath your play. "I believe we have unfinished business."

March remained seated, watching your every move with the sharp, predatory gaze of a man who was used to getting what he wanted. The slight smirk on his lips hinted at his appearing satisfaction. He knew you’d show up, let it be few weeks or decades.

"If some kind fate wishes to send a beautiful lady to dine with me, I can only be grateful," the man said, his voice smooth and low, rich with the charm of someone who was well aware of his power. "You will do me the honor, won't you, ma'am?"

For a brief moment, the tension between the two of you hung in the air, taut and electric, as you studied him. You were fully aware of the game you were playing, the dangerous dance of wit and will, and you had no intention of backing down. This game would be his loss.

Finally, your lips curved into a small, controlled smile, one that spoke of your own understanding of the power dynamics at play. "I should be delighted," you replied, voice carrying the slightest edge of irony as you accepted his invitation.

March's smile deepened, pleased with your response. He gestured to the empty chair opposite him, a silent invitation for you to join him. The man poured a glass for you, the wine a deep, blood-red, before filling his own. He lifted his glass to you in a toast and his eyes never left yours.

"To fate," he said, his voice carrying a note of amusement. "For bringing such a captivating companion to my table."

You lifted your glass, clinking it lightly against his. "To fate," you echoed, gaze steady as you sipped the wine, the taste of it rich and complex on your tongue. It's been a long time since the last moment you tasted the sweet blood.

For now, the dance would continue.

And as you looked into James Patrick March's eyes, you couldn't help but wonder who would lead, and who would follow.

"What would you like for dinner?" his voice always seemed smooth, and you never knew if it was because of the accent or for the fact that he knew exactly what he wanted. A hint of amusement danced in his dark irises.

Your lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "What does the owner of this hotel eat? Pheasant wings and peacock breasts?" you inquired, tone playful yet edged with a subtle challenge. "And — what do you usually eat?"

His grin widened. "Ah, the usual fare for me tends to be quite varied, though I do have a penchant for the extravagant," he admitted, leaning forward slightly as he spoke and you knew his words hinted at something else as well. "But I find myself quite curious about what a countess might prefer."

Your gaze never wavered as you answered, your voice carrying a hint of wry humor. "Almost anything," the simplicity of your answer was belied by the layers of meaning beneath it.

The man's eyes sparkled with interest as he absorbed your response. He seemed to consider those words carefully before responding, his voice warm and teasing. "Well then, how about roast beef?" he suggested, his tone both casual and deliberate, as though he were making an offer that was both grand and intimate.

Your smile deepened and a glimmer of approval appeared in your eyes. James Patrick March had always had a rich taste. Especially in alcohol and women. "Roast beef sounds delightful," you agreed. "I appreciate your choice, Mr. March. It seems fitting for the occasion."

March signaled to the waiter, who had been hovering discreetly nearby, and relayed the order with a casual wave of his hand, all while his eyes never left yours. The waiter nodded and swiftly disappeared, leaving the two of you alone once more, the soft murmur of the dining room the only sound accompanying you.

With a slow, elegant movement of his hand, March poured himself another glass of wine. "I must say, Countess [Last name], it's a rare pleasure to share a meal with someone who possesses such . . . discerning taste," he said, his voice laced with both sincerity and a hint of irony.

"And it's a rare pleasure to find myself in such intriguing company," you replied to him, tone both warm and enigmatic. "I trust the evening will prove to be as engaging as the company."

March chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on you with an almost predatory satisfaction. "I have no doubt it will be," he said, raising his glass in a toast once more.

The night sky was a deep shade of deep indigo, flickering with countless stars that twinkled like diamonds scattered across velvet. The air was warm, with just the faintest whisper of a breeze, carrying the scent of blooming jasmine through the open balcony doors. The Hotel Cortez stood silent and still, its grand exterior bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, casting long, gentle shadows across the marble floors.

You stood on the balcony, the city of Los Angeles sprawling out beneath you like a sea of lights. Your gown, a delicate shade of silver that shimmered in the moonlight, flowed around you like liquid silk. Your hair was loose, cascading over your shoulders in waves, and your young face, bathed in the soft light, was a picture of pure satisfaction.

Beside you stood James Patrick March, his tall figure intimidating yet relaxed as he leaned against the ornate railing. His gaze, however, was not on the city below, but on the woman at his side. There was a softness in his eyes, a rare gentleness that few had ever seen, let alone inspired. In this moment, all the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you.

As you stood in comfortable silence, a sudden streak of light blazed across the night sky — a shooting star, burning its brief path before vanishing into the darkness. March, ever so observant, turned his gaze upward, his lips curving into a smile.

"Look, [Name], a shooting star," he said, his voice filled with a boyish wonder that was rare for him. He turned his head slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes reflecting the faint starlight. "Did you wish?"

Caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the star, you blinked and looked up just as it disappeared. Your expression softened, a faint smile touching your lips, but there was a wistfulness in your eyes as you shook your head slightly.

"Oh . . . I didn't have time," you admitted, voice tinged with a hint of regret, as though you had missed an opportunity that would not come again.

James' smile didn't falter, though there was a subtle shift in his expression — something deeper, more thoughtful. He stepped closer to you, his presence warm and reassuring. "And there is something you wish for," he said, more a statement than a question, as if he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it falling from your own lips.

Your smile faded into something more serious, your eyes searching his as though you were trying to decide whether to speak the truth or guard your heart. But in the end, you could not lie to him — not in this moment, not when you felt so safe, so completely at peace by his side.

"Yes," you whispered to him, barely more than a breath.

March's gaze softened further. He reached out with his hand and gently enveloped your own in his, the skin of his palm warm and grounding. "What did you wish?" he asked, his voice low and intimate, as though the words were meant for your ears alone.

You hesitated, the answer so close to escaping, yet so difficult to say. Your heart ached with the weight of it, with the knowledge of the life you wished for but could never truly have. Looking down at your joined hands, your fingers lightly curled around his in response to his question, and then back up into his dark eyes, which were watching you with such intensity, such sincerity. They seemed a lot darker now, under the night sky.

"I was wishing that we were two other people," you finally confessed, your voice filled with a quiet longing that spoke of dreams unfulfilled. "Two people who need not say goodbye."

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning. You could not bear the thought of losing him, of this moment being just a fleeting memory in the string of your lives. The depth of your love for him was overwhelming, a love so pure and untainted by the shadows that would later consume you.

James stepped even closer, his hand gently moving to cup your cheek and his thumb brushed tenderly across your skin. "Perhaps it can be that way," he murmured. March bent his head, his lips hovering just above yours, as if the very act of kissing you might seal the promise he was making. "Perhaps we can be those people, if only for tonight."

Your breath caught in the back of your throat, heart pounding in your chest as you searched his eyes for the truth in his words. And this time, you allowed yourself to believe it — to believe that the two of you could escape the world that would inevitably tear you apart, that you could be just a man and a woman, free from the burdens of your lives.

You were the one to close the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft, tender, and filled with all the love and hope you held in your heart for him.

And for that night, under the watchful eyes of the stars, you were just two people who did not need to say goodbye.

The present moment was completely different to the warmth and tenderness of the past. The air in the room was thick with tension, the kind that clung to the walls and settled in every crack of the Hotel Cortez. The grand suite you occupied was dimly lit, the once-gilded decor now seemed dull. Outside, the night became alive, the city's lights a distant blur beyond the heavy curtains, but inside, the atmosphere crackled with the remnants of an argument that had yet to reach its peak.

You stood near the window, your back to the room, while you stared out into the darkness with attention that wasn't really there. Your once vibrant spirit now seemed dulled by the weight of time spent in this cursed place, your elegance marred by the sorrow etched into your features. The memories of what had once been — of the love you had felt for him — were a distant echo. His betrayal hardened your heart.

Behind you, James Patrick March paced around the room restlessly, his usually composed demeanor frayed at the edges. The man who had once been a picture of controlled arrogance now seemed almost desperate, his eyes locked onto your figure as though you were the only thing grounding him to this world. His tailored suit was as impeccable as ever, but there was a tension in the set of his shoulders, a strain in his voice that betrayed the depth of his emotions.

"[Name]," he began, and his voice was urgent, almost pleading as he tried to bridge the growing wall between the two of you. "I offer you the three things most dear to me: my heart . . . my hotel . . . and my dream."

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of promises that no longer held the meaning they once did. He took a step toward you, his hand outstretched as if to pull you back to him, to recapture the love you had shared before everything had gone so terribly wrong. Before his mistakes happened.

But you remained unmoved, back still turned to him, posture stiff with resolve. The pain in your chest was such a familiar ache, one that had become a part of your very being, but you had long since learned to live with it. Now, it was a shield, protecting you from the man who had once held your heart so completely.

"You are too generous ��" you began with your voice full of coldness, as if you were speaking to a stranger and not the man you had once loved with every fiber of your being.

"[Name], you must listen to me!" March's voice cracked with desperation as he allowed himself to interrupt you, his frustration spilling over. He stepped closer, his presence almost suffocating in its intensity. "Since that first hour we met, I've been completely yours. There's never been anyone else for me . . . There never will."

His confession, raw and unfiltered, was the truth — at least, the truth as he saw it. To him, you were everything, the only light in the endless darkness that had become his existence. He had built this world all for you, and now it was slipping away, crumbling before his eyes because he could not reach you, could not find a way to make you understand.

You finally turned to face him, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of sorrow and resignation. The words he spoke were like daggers to your heart, reopening wounds that had never truly healed. You had once believed in his love, had once shared his dreams, but that time had passed. What had once been your shared world was now a shattered illusion, a dream that had turned into a nightmare.

"Please," you whispered, voice trembling with the effort to maintain your composure, but you felt the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "Please don't say any more. There are worlds between us, worlds that can't be bridged with words."

Your gaze bore into his, pleading for him to understand what you could not bring yourself to say out loud.

"You are dead. And I am me."

He was trapped in this hotel, in this half-life of his own making, while you remained bound to the world of the living, a world that he could never truly be a part of. The love you had once shared, as powerful and all-consuming as it had been, was now nothing more than a painful memory.

March stood frozen, the weight of your words crushing the last remnants of his hope. He had always been a man who believed that he could bend the world to his will, that nothing was beyond his reach if he desired it enough. But in this moment, he was confronted with the one thing he could not control, could not change — the inexorable march of time and the finality of death. Was he really though?

His expression was a mix of anguish and determination, the usual smoothness of his demeanor shattered by the knowledge he had carried for so long. This was a truth he had avoided speaking aloud, perhaps out of a twisted sense of mercy, or perhaps because he could not bear the thought of breaking you more than it was needed. But now, the time for silence had passed.

"You said one night that you wished we were two different people," March began to remember, his voice low and measured. His eyes never left your form. "I think you may have that wish, [Name]."

His words seemed to hang in the air. For a moment, you did not move, your mind struggling to grasp the meaning behind them. You felt your brows furrowing in confusion, the flicker of doubt that had long been buried now rising to the surface.

"But what do you mean?" you asked in a quiet voice, almost trembling. There was something in his tone, something in the way he looked at you, that sent a chill running down your spine. It was as if the ground beneath you was beginning to crumble, threatening to pull you into an abyss you had refused to acknowledge.

James stepped closer, his gaze softening as he saw the uncertainty and fear in your eyes upon hearing those words. The man who had always prided himself on his control, on his ability to manipulate and bend others to his will, now stood before you, stripped of all secrets. He could not protect you from this truth now, could not shield you from the reality that had been so carefully hidden away by him.

"[Name]," he started gently, as if to not scare you any more, "you are not who you think you are. You've been living in denial, clinging to the idea that you are still part of the world of the living."

You recoiled slightly, with your heart beginning to race as a cold dread settled against your rib cage. Your mind fought against his words, refusing to accept what they implied. You had always felt different, out of place, but you had attributed it to the strange nature of the hotel, to the dark energy that seemed to carve every corner of it. Not this. Never this.

"No . . ." you whispered, shaking your head as if that could wake you up from the nightmare that was taking shape before you. "No, that can't be true. I'm . . . I'm alive, James. I'm here."

The man's brows furrowed in sorrow and what seemed like guilt, his heart breaking for you when you struggled to hold onto the last shreds of your denial. He reached out, gently taking your hands in his, his touch warm but offering no comfort from the truth he was about to reveal.

"You are here, [Name]," he said softly, "but not in the way you believe. You died, my love . . . years ago. You've been here, in this hotel, ever since. Your spirit, your essence — trapped, just like mine. But unlike the others, you've refused to see it. You've built a world around yourself, a world where you still believe you can leave, still believe you can live."

The room seemed to spin around you, the walls closing in as the truth clawed its way into your consciousness. You tried to pull away from him, tried to reject the reality he was presenting, but his grip on your hands was firm, grounding you even as everything else fell apart.

"No . . . no, that's not possible," you insisted still, your voice rising in pitch as panic began to take hold. "I'm not dead, I can't be. I'm . . . I'm real, James. I'm standing here, talking to you."

"Yes, you are," March replied, his voice steady and calm, though his own pain was evident in his eyes. "But you're not alive. Not in the way you think. This hotel . . . it's a place where the dead linger, where they cannot move on. You've been here with me all this time, believing you were still part of the world outside, but the truth is . . . you're not."

Tears welled up in your eyes as the reality of his words began to sink in, your carefully constructed world shattering around you. You could feel the coldness creeping into your bones, the weight of your existence pressing down on you like a leaden shroud. It was as if you were seeing yourself for the first time — truly seeing — and what you saw terrified you.

"But . . . but how?" asking, your voice broke as you looked up at him, searching his face for answers, for anything that might make sense of this horror. "How could I not know? How could I . . . how could I forget?"

Your past lover's expression was filled with sorrow as he gently cupped your face, wiping away the salty tears that spilled down your cheeks. He had never wanted this for you, never wanted you to suffer as he had, to be trapped in this purgatory with nothing but memories and regrets to keep you company.

"You loved me," he stated simply. "You loved me so much that you couldn't bear to let go, even in death. Your love for me, your denial . . . it kept you here, in this place, unable to see the truth. But now . . . now you know."

You were his. Perhaps you had always been. And now, as the truth of your existence settled into your bones, he knew he could not let you go, even if it meant holding onto a ghost, a shadow of what the two of you once were.

Gently, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand still cradling one of your cheeks. Your eyes were red-rimmed, your face paler than usual, but in that moment, you were still the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. The love he had felt for you had not waned, even in death; if anything, it had only grown stronger, more desperate.

"You may as well take my heart, [Name]," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "It's already full of you. You walked into it the day we met."

A blink was all you managed to give. You had felt his love from the beginning, had known how deeply he cared for you.

"You're a fool, James Patrick March." There was no anger in your words, only a sorrowful resignation. You knew what he was trying to do, knew he was trying to hold onto something that had already slipped away. But there was no future for the two of you — not in this twisted world, not in this half-existence.

He smiled sadly, a flicker of the old charm that had once captivated you. "Oh, but isn't any man who falls in love?" He ran his thumb gently across the apple of your cheek, wiping away the last traces of your tears. "Do you know what you are to me? You're something to believe in again. You're the type of person that had ceased to exist for me — a fine and honest woman."

His words were like a knife twisting in your heart. The depth of his feelings, the sincerity in his voice, all served to remind you of what you had lost, of what could never be. You wanted to believe in his love, to find comfort in the fact that he still saw you as something pure and good. But the truth was that you weren't that woman anymore, and perhaps you never had been.

"Oh, my darling. You're such a child.”

James' face fell, the hope in his eyes dimming as he saw the resolve in your posture, heard the finality in your voice. He had feared this moment, the moment when you would push him away, when you would reject the only thing he had left to offer.

"Take your foolish little dream in your heart and go," you continued with your final decision and your voice broke on the last word as you fought against the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm your every sense. You wanted him to leave, to take his love and his dreams and disappear, because you knew that if he stayed, you would both be dragged down into the darkness that surrounded you.

You didn't need to turn around to know he was still there. You could feel him, like a shadow that never left your side.

"What is it? What's wrong, my dear?" his voice was gentle, almost tender, but you could hear the underlying concern.

You wanted to lash out, to tell him to leave you for good, to demand that he let you be. But the words caught in the back of your throat, tangled with the truth of what you felt — what you had always felt for him, despite everything.

"You know nothing about me," you said, voice shaking with frustration, but also with a hint of despair. "You've known me only three weeks!"

March blinked, caught off guard by your statement. Three weeks. Had it really been so little time? To him, it felt like an eternity, and at the same time, like no time at all. Every moment with you had been etched into his mind, as if you had always been there, a part of him that never left.

"Three weeks?" he repeated after you. "[Name], I've known you all my life."

"All your life?!" the words were nothing but a distant echo, incredulous. How could he say that? How could he claim to have known you, when you yourself barely understood who you were anymore?

James took a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. He could see the turmoil in your gaze, the confusion and doubt that swirled around you like a storm. But he had to make you understand — had to make you see what you meant to him, what you had always meant.

"It's true," he insisted, his voice filled with quiet conviction. "I've seen you in a thousand plays, read you in as many books. While I've heard beautiful music, I've thought, 'She'd like that.' I've looked at flowers and known that one day I'd give them to you."

To him, you had always been there, in his thoughts, in his dreams. Even before the two of you met, you had been a part of him, an ideal, a vision of something pure and beautiful in a world that had long since lost its luster.

Your breath caught in your throat as you listened, heart pounding in your chest. You had heard words like these before — sweet nothings whispered in the dark after you've made love, promises made and broken — but this was different. There was no lies in his voice, no empty flattery. He truly believed what he was saying, and that sincerity shook you to your core.

But it also terrified you. Because you knew that if you allowed yourself to believe him, to accept the love he offered, there would be no turning back. You would be lost to him, bound by the same chains that held you both to this place.

"James. . ." you began with your trembling voice as you struggled to find the right words. You wanted to tell him that it wasn't real, that what he felt was just another illusion, another trick of his twisted mind. But even as you thought it, you knew it wasn't true. His love for you was truly real — so real that it had brought you back, kept you from moving on.

But was it enough? Could it ever be enough?

You felt a cold sweat on your skin as you grappled with the turmoil building inside you. The love you felt for James was undeniable, a force that had bound you together in life and in death. But with that love came a profound sense of duty, a discipline that you had clung to as a way to maintain some semblance of control over your fractured existence. Now, that discipline was being tested in a way you had never imagined.

The man himself could see the conflict in your eyes, the way your emotions warred with your duty. He had always admired your strength, the fierce determination with which you had approached everything in your life. But now, he wondered if that strength would ultimately be the thing that tore the two of you apart.

"If I betray you, I betray myself," whispering, your voice trembled with the weight of your confession. You had always prided yourself on your unwavering commitment to your principles, to the discipline that had guided you through even the darkest of times. But now, standing before the man you loved, you realized just how fragile that commitment had become, all because of him.

"If I betray myself," you continued, "I betray my discipline. My discipline is very dear to me."

The words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. You had built your life around that discipline, around the principles that had defined you. It had been your anchor, your guiding light in a world that had often seemed dark and chaotic.

"Dearer than I?" James' voice was soft, almost pleading. He could see the struggle in your eyes, the way you fought against your love for him with the discipline that had been the foundation of your existence. He knew that he was asking you to choose between two parts of yourself, and the thought of losing you because of it was almost too much to bear.

You looked up at him, heart breaking in million pieces at the vulnerability in his voice. You had never wanted to hurt him, never wanted to put him in a position where he had to question your love. But the truth was, you were questioning it yourself. Not the love itself — no, that was as real as anything you had ever known — but whether you could truly allow yourself to give in to it, to let go of the discipline that had defined you for so long.

"No," you whispered into the dark while the soft breeze blew past you. "No, not dearer than you. But I must leave."

James Patrick March stood there, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you like a death sentence. You were leaving him — this time, forever. The love you had shared, the bond that had once seemed unbreakable, was now shattered, and there was nothing he could do to stop you from disappearing into the void where he could never follow.

For a moment, he said nothing, his heart a cage of grief, anger, and desperation. He had always prided himself on his composure, his ability to remain calm and in control, even in the face of the most dire situations. But now, with the woman he loved standing before him, ready to walk out of his life forever, all that control began to crumble.

"You gave me your heart, you know?" James finally spoke, his voice low and strained, as if each word was being torn from the depths of his soul. "And now you'd like me to hand it back to you, whole again. But I won't."

You flinched at the bitterness in his tone, but you held your ground, soft eyes betraying the sadness that mirrored his own. You had made your decision, but it was clear that it was one that pained you just as much as it pained him.

"You will live a long time yet, [Name]," the man continued, his voice growing stronger, more resolute, as if he were steeling himself against the inevitable. "An eternity without me."

He paused for a moment, hoping to find any sign that you might change your mind, that you might see the madness in what you were about to do. But there was nothing — just the same quiet determination that had always been a part of you, the same unyielding strength that he had fallen in love with.

"You will look into the faces of passersby, hoping for something that will, for an instant, bring me back to you. But it won't. You will find moonlit nights strangely empty," he went on, his voice now a haunting whisper. "Because when you call my name through them, there will be no answer."

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, unable to meet his gaze any longer. James felt a sharp pang in his chest, a sense of helplessness that he had never known before. He was losing you for real, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Always your heart will be aching for me," he said, his voice trembling with the intensity of his emotions. "And your mind will give you the doubtful consolation that you did a brave thing."

He took a step closer, reaching out to gently lift your chin so that your eyes met once more. The pain in your gaze was almost too much for him to bear, but he held it, wanting you to see the truth in his own eyes. He wanted you to feel his own pain.

"But know this, my dear," the whispered affection left his lips so naturally when it came to you and that was why it all hurt too much. He'd never change. "You may think you're doing the right thing, the brave thing, by leaving. But there will come a time when you will question it — when the loneliness becomes too much, when the nights grow too long, and the silence becomes unbearable. And in those moments, you will remember me. You will remember what we had, and you will wish, with all your heart, that you had chosen differently."

He let his hand fall away, stepping back as the finality of your decision settled over him like a blanket. There was nothing more to say — nothing that could change what was about to happen.

"You will never be free of me. No matter how far you run, or how long you hide. I will always be a part of you, just as you are a part of me."

You swallowed hard, tears now spilling freely down your cheeks again as you took one last look at the man you had loved with all your heart. The man you were about to leave behind.

"Goodbye, James," you whispered, voice breaking. "Goodbye."

And with that, you turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows, leaving James alone in the suffocating silence of the room you had once shared.

As the door closed behind you, the reality of your absence crashed over him like a brutal wave, and for the first time in his life, James Patrick March felt truly, utterly lost.

[redroses07]

Date Night // Kit Walker

Kit Walker x Fem!Reader

Summary: Kit and reader haven’t had much time to themselves recently, so he decides to give her the perfect date night.

WC: 1.1k

Warnings: Smut 18+, Fingering, Swearing, Kissing, Making out, Fluffy af (maybe a little cringe).

A/N: Hey lovelies, I really like this fic and Kit is my favorite Evan character and I totally need to write about him more. Hope you guys like this! And as always comments and reblogs are appreciated. Love you guys sm, and thank you for all the support! - Claire ♡

You stood in front of your mirror, inspecting your chosen outfit. You had hoped it would match the occasion, considering your husband hadn't given you much information other than "put on something nice." It had been a while since the two of you were able to go out. Both of your schedules had become so busy, to the point where you barely had any time to see each other.

So finally, when both of you had a free evening, Kit made it his mission to organize the perfect date. Which apparently meant it being a complete surprise. You didn't know how you felt about that since always having a plan was calming to you, but you were willing to leave it to Kit just this once.

You made your way into the living room, heels clicking behind you.

"I'm ready, love." You called.

Kit, who was sitting on the couch, stuck his head up to look at you.

"Aww, baby you look so beautiful." Kit jumped up from the couch and walked towards you. He placed his hands on either of your arms and gave you a soft yet passionate kiss.

"So can I know where we're going yet?" You interrogated.

"Nope." Kit said.

You rolled your eyes, and he responded by kissing you on the cheek and leading you out to the car. He opened your door for you, as he always did, before getting in the driver's seat.

You drove for several minutes, passing from the suburbs into the busy town. Kit turned on the radio, and you listened to the music mixed with static as you rode along.

Kit kept one hand on the steering wheel, and the other glued to your thigh. He occasionally glanced over at you, only to give you the sweetest smile. You loved his smile, it was by far your favorite feature of his. The way his lips turned up, and his eyes crinkled in admiration.

Kit finally stopped and parked the car in front of your favorite restaurant. You smiled, happy that he had remembered your favorite place.

“Awww! This is such a sweet surprise, thank you honey.” You smiled, leaning over into the drivers seat to give him a hug.

Kit chuckled slightly.

“Well, sugar, this is only part of the surprise.”

You pulled back, raising your eyebrows in curiosity.

Kit kissed you on the cheek in response, and proceeded to exit the car.

The two of you made your way into the restaurant. Kit kept his arm around your waist, he always had to keep you close to him. But of course you didn’t mind.

Kit confirmed his reservation with the waiter, and he motioned for the two of you to follow him. To your surprise, he led you past the busy main rooms, and through a small door.

The door had a sign with the word “Reserved” on it.

Inside was a single table with two chairs. Rose petals were strewn across the floor and table, and a bottle of far too expensive looking champagne was placed in the center of the table.

You looked at Kit, a giddy expression on your face. Some might think this was cheesy, but not you. God you loved him so much.

“Thank you, ahhh I love you.” You sashayed over to the table and took a seat.

The two of you were quick to order your meal, and it was quicker to arrive than usual. You assumed because you were considered special guests tonight.

As you ate, Kit didn’t fail to remind you how beautiful you looked; and you didn’t fail at becoming a blushing mess every time. No matter how long the two of you were together, you would never get used to his flattery.

His hand reached across the table, softly taking yours. Fingers brushed over your wedding band, leaving goosebumps on your skin. Suddenly, you couldn’t wait for this meal to be over.

Once the check arrived, Kit was fast to pay the bill and the two of you were on your way out.

On your way home, Kit once again had his hand on your thigh, but you didn’t miss how he not so discreetly placed it higher.

“Did you enjoy your dinner, love?”

“Of course, and the private seating was honestly one of the sweetest things ever,”

“But I still can’t help feeling a little unsatisfied.” You flirted, leaning in slightly.

“Is that so?” Kit hummed, his hand sliding slowly under your dress.

“mhm” You squirm, trying your hardest not to squeeze your thighs together.

Kit pulled into the driveway and turned the engine off. No more than five seconds later did he dive over into the passenger seat and kiss you with a burning desire.

He kept his hand pressed against your thigh, squeezing it hard as he kissed you. You let out a sigh, leaning back into the seat.

Kit’s hand snakes further up your dress, and into your panties. The feeling of his cool hands against your dripping core, was enough to make you let out a suppressed moan.

He pushed two fingers in, and you threw your head back in bliss. More moans fell from your lips, and you could feel yourself getting lost in his touch.

“Yeah, that’s my girl, let me hear all those pretty noises.” Kit praised as he jammed his fingers in you.

You could feel yourself pulsing around him, and you could tell that you wouldn’t last long.

You gave Kit a sloppy kiss, a mix of tongue and erotic sounds. You rolled your hips up, grinding against his hand.

“Fuck, someone’s needy.” Kit teased.

You whined softly, feeling yourself about to climax.

“Oh shit-“ You moaned as you shamelessly rode his hand.

“Shhh baby it’s okay.” Kit whispered in your ear, as he placed kisses down your neck.

That was enough to push you over the edge. You cried out as you felt a wave of indescribable pleasure wash over you.

“Oh god, Kit.” You shouted as you rode out your high.

Kit kept his eyes on you, a loving smile on his face.

“My beautiful girl.” Kit murmured.

He slowly removed his fingers from inside of you, and kissed you once more.

“I sure hope you’re satisfied now.” Kit laughed, his lips still mere inches from yours.

“More than satisfied.” You giggled, grabbing him by his shirt and kissing him roughly.

He pulled away after a few moments.

“How about we get in the house first before we continue with anything else?”

“You’re no fun.” You rolled your eyes playfully, before opening the car door and pulling your husband behind you.

[spookievan]

< 1940's love story 3

[shescallinmedaddy]

too much.

kit walker x f!reader .

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

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

word count - 684 .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[bluerthanvelvet444]

ᯓ★⋆˚🅰🅿🆁🅸🅲🅸🆃🆈⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

(Peter Maximoff x fem!reader)

tags: smut with plot and a bit of fluff in the end.

warnings: subby!Peter, restraints, handjob, fingering, riding, p in v, denied orgasm, praise, mentions of abuse, mentions of alcohol, mentions of fight, swearing.

summary: Peter gets captured by the villains. This fic takes place after x-men apocalypse and before x-men dark phoenix.

character count: 19k.

full fic under the cut ↓

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Memoir. What’s its provenance? What is it?

According to scientists, memories are “formed as a result of connections between neurons in the brain”. The poet Sylvia Plath, instead, “sardonically embraced the most horrific and vulgar fragments from the storehouse of collective memory”. The great philosopher Aristotle believed that “memory is like a writing that remains etched in wax, and whose inscriptions remain more or less durable”.

Although you continually researched and seeked in books for the perfect depiction, you weren’t able to find anything that could comply with your personal belief. You were staunch that memories are, in fact, the mirror of our being. Disgraceful memories, glorious ones…they’re both needed to construct the way we act, the way we think, and the way we are. You had always been involved in memoir personally, because of your quirk. You had the marvelous capacity of intruding into one’s memories. You couldn’t directly change or interact with them, instead, you could see, reproduce, assimilate and mimic them. Phenomenal, isn’t it? You may think it is but, your biggest gift to you was, in fact, your biggest ruin. Your life started its downgrade the exact moment you found out about it. You remembered it all.

You were standing small in front of your mother, who had either fallen asleep or passed out. The bottle of cheap tequila in her hands made both answers valid. You were just a kid but you knew it wasn’t easy. Your father had left when you were just a fetus in your mother’s womb. Since then, she had never been the same. All the bills, the rent, expenses were on her. Her job exhausted her and the little time she had left, she spent drowning her worries in alcohol. She didn’t need any more problems, so you never told her about that awkward energy growing inside of you. That particular day you felt it bigger than ever, the need to find out what it led to even stronger. So you put your tiny fingers on her temples, as the little voice in your head told you to, and you started seeing. All of your mother's life was flashing in front of your eyes quickly. You stopped at one particular memory, you inspected it. Your mother stood pregnant in front of a man that kept yelling at her. You put the pieces of the puzzles together. It was clear, and the new knowledge of the situation triggered something inside of you, inside of your power. You kept replaying and replaying the scene, tears in your eyes, as the man’s words dissolved from the memory and came directly out of your mouth. That woke your mother up, she was holding her head as the same image kept banging in her mind, and as the man’s voice spit those known words harshly from your little mouth. She yelled for you to stop, and you lowkey wish you never did. As soon as you stopped, she grabbed you and threw you inside of-what you playfully called-the dark room, your basement.

“I-I’m sorry…I can’t-you’re him…I-I see him-” Her words came out broken from her mouth, her sobs stopping her mid-sentence as she locked you inside.

That became a habit since then. You grew up in the “dark room”, hardly ever going outside if not to eat and respond to natural calls. Your main activity was watching TV and day-dreaming about the outside world. You knew it was better than what you were living, it had to be. Especially because you found out that you weren’t crazy or evil but that you simply belonged to a different species. They called them mutants.And apparently, there was a school for kids just like you, the interviews of the famous Charles Xavier were the ones you liked watching the most on TV. As the years went by, your urge to run away grew more and more, and so you did. One day in the early 70s, you grabbed all of your things and left, taking advantage of your mom’s blackout. You took different taxis and avoided the questions about your young age, and you were finally standing in front of Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Although, it seemed different from what you saw on TV: it looked abandoned, the plate with the name on it rusty and absentmindedly resting on the ground, and the gates closed. You tried peeking inside, before being startled by an unfamiliar voice behind you.

“Don’t waste your time. They can’t help you anymore, but we can.”

This is how you found yourself with a group of mutants who had the exact same hopes you had, before they were broken by the closure of the school. You were guided by The Captain-that is how he wanted to be called-that was trying to create a new safe place for young mutants. And his plan seemed to work, kid mutants were actually starting to come…before Xavier’s school opened again. At this point, your group desperately found itself in front of the school’s gate again. You were dismissed,though, by a blue beast mutant.

“We’re sorry, the school only accepts young kids between 5 and 17-” He told you before turning his back.

“You can try and talk to Charles though, I’m sure he will find some space for y-'' He stopped seeing you had all left.

This is why The Captain’s plan was ever created in the first place. He believed that Charles Xavier was a man only drawn by his personal needs, and that he only used the young mutants to gain popularity and be idolized by the US government.

“This is why we were rejected. Our powers aren’t conventionally pleasing. No human kid would ever desire our powers. So if he believes our gifts can’t be used for good, we won’t use them for good.” He spoke firmly to you all.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Your flow of memories was interrupted by The Captain.

“We’ve captured one. You will watch him while we take care of the others. Do your thing on him and find out his weakness.” He spoke with a deep voice.

You nodded and began making your way downstairs before he gripped your wrist.

“Don’t disappoint me, Y/N.” You felt his piercing gaze in your eyes.

“I won’t.” You gulped and quickly left the room.

When you opened the door you scanned your surroundings. The room was all white, with petty furniture. No windows, a table, a chair, a small closet, and a bed which had a figure laying down on it. You inched closer and scanned the boy. His eyes closed, he was probably knocked out, a few bruises on his skin, his hands and legs restrained by the strong collars around them… he looked your age, his hair was silver with some goggles resting on them. He had a pleasant face to look at, if the circumstances had been different you could’ve even admitted that he was pretty attractive. He was wearing a black protective suit, probably X-men’s equipment, you guessed. The more you observed him, the more you were confused. You expected them to capture the great Mystique, the glorious Magneto…not a newbie. You sighed and started walking towards the desk, ramaging in your bag for a sleeping pill so that you could do your magic without being interrupted.

Peter slowly opened his eyes, he could feel his body sore from the previous fight. He started to panic as he didn’t recognize his surroundings. He tilted his head forwards, noticing the person standing in front of the desk.

“H-hey…! Ppsttttt…Lady! Yes! You! Lady!” You heard his desperate calls.

You walked towards him and stopped at the side of the bed.

“Hi! So there’s a bunch of bad people who captured me and probably want to beat my ass-” You stopped him mid-sentence.

“I know.” You replied with a monotone voice.

“You-you know?! Don’t tell me you’re one of ‘em- oh shit! You’re one of ‘em! C’mon you have to be kiddin’ me…you’re too pretty to be mean! Hey! C’mon help me!” He rushed, his hands and legs squirming at high speeds against the restraints. You didn’t budge at his compliment, instead, you were focused on his movements.

“A speedster, huh.” You mumbled.

“A speed…A speedster?! Babe I'm not a speedster- I’m the speedster! Quicksilver! Peter Maximoff! The one and only!” He replied cockily, almost as if he was offended by your lack of knowledge. You raised your eyebrow, clearly having no clue of who he was.

“Aah babe you’ve got to be kiddin’ me! I’m Quicksilver! The one who beated Apocalypse’s ass! I did it all myself heh- I’m basically a hero, everyone loves me. Don’t ya watch TV or what?” Even though you had no idea who this guy was and what he did to be part of the X-men, you could sense the exaggeration in his words.

“I prefer books.” You shrugged before turning your back and making your way to the desk again.

“Hey! Hey! Where ya goin’?! Are ya a mutant too? Hey, yer not gonna hurt me aren’t ya?! What’s your power? C’mon tell me…What’s your power? Whaddaya do?!”

You rolled your eyes as his continuous questions started to annoy you.

“Will you shut up and let me do what I need to do?!” You snapped while holding between your thumb and index the sleeping pill. His pupils dilated.

“Whoa-whoa…let’s chill down a bit, yea? No need to use that, babe. Ya just gotta ask and I'll do whatever you want me to do.” He said with a smirk forming on his face. You sighed.

“Close your eyes and stay still.” You began pressing your fingers against his temples.

“...Will it hurt?” He said with a nervous smile, big brown eyes looking up at you.

“It doesn’t have to.”

Just like that you were thrown into Peter’s memories. You saw his child self, his mom, his sister…his first time using his powers…Magneto…many memories about Magneto, weird. You decided to dig a little deeper. You replayed the memory where he found out that…

“Magneto is your father?!” You exclaimed, visibly surprised.

“Hehe, I guess…so that’s your power?” He said with a tiny chuckle.

You kept thinking about what you just saw. You never saw a direct contact between Peter and Magneto, so you supposed he didn’t know about his son. That could’ve easily been used against him, you had to tell The Captain. You walked towards the table and gathered your bag.

“That’s a cool power…I’ve never heard ‘bout it. Actually, I’ve never heard ‘bout ya either…do ya have a supervillain name? Why didn’t ya fight with the others?” The words fell rapidly out of his lips. You gulped.

“Just Y/N. I don’t fight with the others. My powers weren’t made for physical combat.” That’s true, they hardly ever let you come with them on missions. You were useless for superheroes as much as you were for supervillains.

“Pffffttt…that’s bullshit! Ya can do those cool things with yer mind! Ya totally have to meet Charles, he’s gott-”

“Charles? Charles’s a selfish man who puts his needs first. I don’t want anything from him.” You scoffed.

“Wha-what? Are ya out of yer mind? Have ya ever even met Charles? He’s the coolest. I was literally a loser who lived in his mom’s basement before meeting him. Always been cool though.” His words made your blood boil, hearing that he didn’t hesitate to help him but discarded you immediately. You told Peter your story, how you truly believed Charles was gonna save you but ended up breaking your inner child’s heart. Your eyes started to water as memories flooded in front of your eyes.

“Hey-I-I’m sorry that happened to ya but- hey- if I get outta here alive, I promise I will take you to the school. The professor will help ya, he always does.” You looked at him, a tiny glimmer of hope appearing in your eyes even though you knew that you couldn’t leave.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You spent all your day talking to him. He was funny, you had to admit. The nicest company you had ever had. He told you about his family, how he joined the X-men, everything. And before you knew it, the night came.

“Oh uhm. You should get some sleep, you’re probably exhausted.” You said while getting up, ready to leave.

“Wait- uhhh…I can’t really sleep with this armor thingy on. It’s uncomfy.” He complained.

“Oh. Right, I can bring you some clothes. But I…can’t untie you. It’s the rules.” You shrugged.

“No need to. I usually sleep naked.” He winked at you.

“...” You contorted your face, not really knowing how to respond.

“HA! Gotcha. Just kidding. I sleep in my boxers.” He said with a proud grin on his lips.

“...I’ll bring you clothes.” You said before being interrupted again.

“No! Seriously, I just need to take my clothes off.”

You raised your eyebrow.

“...Not because I’m a creep. Simply because my speed speeds my body’s functions, and by speeding it highs my temperature so I get hot.” He spoke as if it was obvious.

“...Right.” You sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

“How does this thing open?”

“W-whoa whoa…you-are you gonn- wait-” He stuttered as his cheeks slightly reddened.

“You said you wanted your clothes off, and I’m not gonna risk getting scolded by The Captain by freeing you.” You sighed. He gulped and pointed where his zipper was.

C’mon Peter…ya can do this, buddy. Ya just need to focus, yea? Don’t let a fine chick undressing ya speed yer speedy hormones, mh? Peter thought to himself. Your hands gripped the zipper and started pulling it down. Stay focused soldier. His broad chest was revealed as you slowly undressed him. You stopped at his abs to hop on the bed and take his shoes off. As you leaned to pull his boots, your arm slightly brushed his crotch. Holy fucking mother of all the fucking mutants, fuck. She barely touched ya and yer already growing hard, Peter? Must be tha speedy genes, yea, has to be. Totally not has nothing to do with ya being a virgin in your 20s. Nuh-uh. Goddamn you, Peter!

You threw his shoes on the floor, and started pulling his suit down again. You let your gaze linger as he was half-naked in front of you. He was wearing boxers with lightning bolts on them, a tiny chuckle escaped your mouth at that.

“Someone’s excited.” You said with a playful grin on your lips as you pointed at the prominent bulge in his boxers.

“Hey! Not my fault ya got all handsy- how did ya expect me to react?” He said with a tiny blush on his cheeks, he was so cute.

“...And it’s the speedster genes, by tha way. They call me Quickie for a reason.” He replied, annoyed because of how embarrassed he got.

“Do you need help?” You suggested. It may have been wrong, since you were “enemies” and you barely knew each other but…when are you gonna have another cute speedster all for you again?

“DoIneedawhat-” He blurted out, not believing what he just heard.

Your lips curled up in a smirk, and before he could process anything, your fingers grazed his crotch through his underwear.

“Oh- fuck- yea…yes-” He moaned, you giggled.

“So eager, mh?” You teased him by pulling his waistband up and then leaving it smack against his skin. He groaned and nodded, he was so worked up by nothing. You undressed him of his boxers too, his shaft springing free against his stomach, leaving him naked on the bed. His hips bucked up in search of friction. You grinned and gently took his dick in your hand, slowly pumping it.

“Aaah…f-f-yes…please…faster…” He whined.

You giggled and leaned in to kiss his lips gently, muffling his pleas. You started speeding your movements, and he deepened the kiss as his moans rolled off his tongue. As you made out, you could hear the sound of his hands desperately squirming against the restraints.

“Please…let me touch you…” He whimpered, big puppy eyes gazing up at you.

“Mh…sorry, can’t do, baby. It’s the rules.” You smirked and leaned in to peck his lips again. You stopped and sat up to pull off your shirt. He groaned at the sight. You took him in your hands again and fasted your pace even more.

“O-oh..f-fuck...gonna…gonna cum babe…c-cant hold it in…ahh..” You giggled and sped up even more, your mouth working hungrily against his, eating up his moans. He came with a loud groan, muffled by your lips. He kept whining after that.

“Pleasepleaseplease…wanna please ya too…lemme…I’m good at it- I promise…I’m basically a human vibrator-long lasting rose toy- please…” You giggled and nodded, pecking his lips. You took off your pants, before untying one of his hands. He groaned and immediately pulled you closer, his hand making its way under your panties. He suppressed a moan by biting his lip as he felt your slick with his fingers. He gently started circling your clit, and after he heard a few moans of confirmation from you, he began buzzing his fingers against it.

“Ooh…f-fuck…just like that, baby, don’t stop…” You moaned, he answered with a cute whine. He looked up at you, his middle finger gently pushing at your entrance, not fully sliding in. You nodded and bit your lip to suppress any more unholy sound coming out of you as his fingers started to fuck you slowly.

“F-fuck…” You threw your head back. He was gazing up at you with parted lips, as if he had never seen something so breathtaking. He kept picking up the pace, until you stopped his wrist and tied it up again.

“Wha-Wait-Why..? Y-you didn’t like it?” He said with his silver brows furrowed, he was lost and scared of what your answer could’ve been.

“Oh, it was fucking awesome, baby. But I wanna use something else to come, yea? Will you let me do that?” You said in a cooing voice, clearly driving his mind crazy.

“Mhm…yesplease…” He nodded, his gaze not daring to leave your body.

You undid your bra, his eyes widening, and straddled his hips. Your entrance just above his cock. He groaned at the sight, his shaft fully hardening again. You smiled and slowly sinked in, until your hips met his.

“Aaah…w-warm…so warm n’tight…mppph…” He moaned loudly.

You grinned and started slowly sliding your hips up and down repeatedly, reaching a stable pace. You moaned as you started speeding up, yet it wasn’t enough to satisfy you fully.

“Mhh…baby…mind helping me a little?” You said looking down at him.

He moaned and nodded. He started superspeeding his hips to meet yours as you bounced on his cock. The new sensation making you moan loudly.

“Ohhh! Fuck! Just like that, baby…such a good boy…” You groaned as you felt yourself closer. He let out a tiny whimper as he heard your praise and kept speeding up, his wrists and legs straining against the collars, forming tiny red lines.

“Fuckfuckfuck…can i cum? P-please-ah…?” He whined.

“Mhhh...not yet- baby…let me finish first…” You smirked.

He groaned and sped up even more, trying desperately to bring you to the edge. He hissed as he felt that knot in his stomach urging to snap. It didn’t take much for you to come undone. You cried out as you were still jumping up and down at lightning speed. As soon as he felt you clenching around him, he moaned loudly, as he was just about to cum. You quickly pulled him out of you and allowed him to spatter his fluid on your body. He panted heavily, droplets of sweat sinking from his forehead to the mattress. You waited a few moments before grabbing a towel and cleaning you both. You laid down on the bed with him, moving his head on your chest as you ran your fingers in his silver locks, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

“You're my apricity.” You said while caressing his hair and pecking his temple. His eyes were closed, and he was clearly drifting off to sleep.

“Mh?” He mumbled, not moving one single part of his body, still restrained.

“Apricity. I read that in a book.” You chuckled.

“In simpler words?” He mumbled.

“The warmth of the sun in winter.”

“In even simpler words?” He muttered, his voice coming muffled by your chest.

“My life is the winter, you are the warmth.” You admitted. He didn't answer to that. You weren't sure if he actually understood the concept or even just your words, but one thing you were a hundred percent sure of.

He fell asleep smiling.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @angeldollw @marchsfreakshow @newwavesylviaplath @happy74827 @evpeters87

a/n: raaaahh!!! I'm honestly so proud of this, the fic came out just like i imagined. Anyways, hope you like it, love you all🤍🤍

join my taglist!!

all rights reserved.

[evanchantingpeters]

Let me take care of you (Fanfic - Housemate edition)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Fem reader

Genre ─ Smut/fluff

Summary ─ You and Evan are housemates. Dragging yourself downstairs after a day of virtual grind, you stumble on Evan in the kitchen, playing chef. As you pour out your workday struggles to him, he decides to cool you off in his own special way. Just as the steamy vibes start rolling in on the countertop, a plot twist goes down.  

Warnings ─ Swearing, fingering, oral (f receiving), nipple teasing, squirting, overstimulation :)

Word count ─ 1724

18+ > If you're a minor, DO NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

You peel yourself away from the computer at 6 pm on the dot after what feels like a never-ending virtual meeting marathon. The glow of your computer screen has imprinted on your retinas, and you swear you can see faint outlines of pie charts on the walls. It’s time to free yourself from the shackles of the fintech world and wind down for the night.

“Enough with slaving away,” you huff out and tug at the hem of your dark floral dress, as if shedding the remnants of a tedious remote workday and a thousand mouse clicks. You fetch your black knitted cardigan from the closet and slip through its comforting embrace.

As you lumber down the stairs, visions of spreadsheets and Teams calls still haunt you. But wait, what’s that aroma wafting through the air? It’s not the most pleasant odour, but you’re starving. You follow your nose like a cartoon character floating on the scent waves, only to find Evan in the kitchen.

Evan, decked out in a white apron that’s askew and screams ‘I have no idea what I’m doing, but I swear I’m trying my best,’ is vigorously stirring a saucepan on the stove.

He turns to you with a broad dimpled smile that’s equal parts endearing and suspicious. “Hey there, survivor of the corporate jungle! Look, your housemate’s working up a culinary masterpiece,” he exclaims, a spatula brandished like a knight’s sword.

You eye the chaotic scene in the kitchen with an arched brow. “Culinary masterpiece, you say? Should I be calling 911 just in case?”

He lets out a throaty chuckle. “Fear not, Y/N!” He chirps, winking at you. “I’m trialling a dish that requires minimal skill and maximum faith in the universe.”

You shoot him a tight-lipped smile as you push aside the table cloth and cautiously take a seat at the kitchen counter. You watch as Evan throws a drizzle of something mysterious into the saucepan. “And may I ask what’s on the menu?” you scoff while swooshing your legs that dangle off the counter, your voice laced with curiosity and a hint of survival instinct.

He playfully pinches the tip of your nose, a sly smirk curling up on the corners of his lips. “Instant noodles, but with my own twist. Trust me, you’ll be licking the plate by the end of it,” he says as he begins to slice and dice a colourful bunch of veggies. 

“Only my fingers?” you ponder, and your lips pout slightly as you observe the veins on his calloused and robust hands sticking out with each chopping movement. The sight of those hands always makes you moist down there, let alone the feeling of them on or in you… Proper gush…

“So, how was work? Give me the scoop,” Evan insists, his enthusiasm bursting through the air like confetti, jolting you out of your thoughts.

You shake your head and blink rapidly to regain your composure. “It was…” you wheeze, your voice cracking like a rusty gate, and you immediately clear your throat, “It was a long blooper reel. Most of my team’s on annual leave, so it was pretty much a one-woman show.” 

Evan’s eyes widen with sympathy, as if sensing there’s more to this workplace saga. “Oh, shoot,” he grunts. “Don’t sweat, I’ll take good care of you,” he continues after a brief pause as he massages your legs, your breath catching in your throat. His hands work their magic, though, kneading away the invisible knots of stress that the day has tied. 

“I don’t think noodles could do the trick,” you purr, and a low giggle escapes you. 

A moment of silence ensues, as his eyes flick down to your lips. “There's something that can squirt the tension out of you in no time,” His whisper carries a velvety rasp, his warm breath, tinged with the scent of mint and coffee, delightfully fanning your face.

“And that is?” You snap, and he hums with a cunning grin etched on his face. Your heart begins to throb with heavy thuds as he gently spreads your legs, and his right hand traces a tantalising path from your inner thighs.

“Tell me what you want,” he coos with a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes as he stretches aside the fabric of your soaked panties.

“You,” you gasp when his index finger glides up and down your wet slit, making him groan at the slimy texture. Your head falls back when he starts rubbing your clit in slow circular motions, ragged moans tumbling out of your mouth.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and nibbles on your soft skin, his expertly smooth teasing of your clit persists.

“Don’t stop,” you spill through your pleasure in a hushed tone. Gripping his shirt, you pull him closer and smash your lips against his. Your tongue plunges into his mouth and swirls with his in a passionate rhythm, deepening the kiss. 

His chest is heaving heavily, and you feel an eager finger circling around your vaginal opening. You let out a choked “Evan” as he slowly slides his long, sturdy finger into you, popping in and out, and groaning loudly at the warmth of your insides. 

“You feel so good, baby girl,” he rasps out and tilts his head to the side, a crooked smile is playing on his lips as he watches his finger gliding in you.

Your hands desperately roam along his chiselled chest, trailing down to his hard cock, and you feel his bulge straining under his slacks.

Without warning, he climbs on the kitchen counter and slumps on top of you. You lie on your back and feel the knot in your stomach tightening as he settles in between your legs, hovering over you. He shreds your cardigan and dress in an instant, and his tongue momentarily flicks across his lips as he marvels at your beauty.

Balancing his weight on his arms, he crouches down on you and drags sensual yet raw kisses on your lips down your neck, and you throw your head back to give him more room.

He lowers his upper body to come in direct contact with your perked nibbles. Nuzzling his nose on your breasts, he gives them both a soft pull, moaning softly. You release an involuntary squeal, feeling you cunt aching more and more as his kissing journey moves down to your stomach. When he reaches your pussy that’s now pounding for him, he props himself on his elbows and glosses over your baby blue thong with a smirk. He glances up at you, his eyes carrying a lustful glint. 

Pulling your legs closer to him, he adjusts your thighs on his shoulders but refuses to break his stare on your face. His lips brush along your inner thighs and leaves tender love bites, edging closer and closer to where you want him to reach. 

When he presses his mouth over the fabric of your panties right on your sensitive spot, you gasp in his firm hold. You instinctively arch your back once you feel the vibrations of his moans against you. 

“Would you let me taste you?” he asks for your permission with a husky voice. You frantically nod in despair, unable to utter a single syllable. 

He chucks your panties away and peers at your glistening pussy with awe, his hot breath tingling your skin. He licks a long stripe along your delicate bud, and you squeak. He groans loudly at your taste and dives in headfirst. His lips suck on your clit while his tongue glides repeatedly against the rest of your slit, building the momentum of your orgasm. 

You dig your fingers in his hair and squirm in his grasp. He roughly tightens the grasp of your thighs and continues to eat you out like you’re his last meal on death row. 

Not too long after, he gently pushes two fingers in you until he’s knuckle deep. His mouth attaches back on your clit, toppling you off the edge. You cry out and your tug on his hair becomes harsher. His nose nudges your clit ever so slightly as his tongue twirls and twists at your sobbing red cunt, leaving your mind fuzzy. Your moans are getting higher and higher in pitch, as you know you aren’t going to last long.

“Jeez, I can’t get enough of you,” he roars, looking so dedicated to your pleasure. His words facilitate your orgasm to hurl straight at you as his tongue laps in and out of you, rolling against your gummy walls. 

Your release finally washes over you in waves and with a scream, your vision becoming hazy. Your legs tighten around his head as your knees wobble and you squeeze on his biceps. 

Evan eases you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, knowing when to let go and avoid your overstimulation. 

“Oh, shit,” you yelp and find yourself grinning down at him short of breath. He reciprocates the smile, a cute look overtakes his features. He draws comforting circles on your lower belly and leaves pecks on your thighs, giving you a few minutes to regulate your breathing. 

Cupping his chin, you pull him up for a sloppy yet rough kiss. “How does the work tension feel now?” he chuckles softly, stroking your breasts as he rests on top of you. You can feel his hardness pressing against your stomach.

“Work, who? I don’t know her!” you blurt out, and you both burst out laughing. 

As you lean in for another kiss, the sudden jingle of keys interrupts your bliss. Panic flashes in both of your eyes as the front door rattles, and the unmistakable sound of the landlord unlocking the entrance echoes through the room.

In a split second, you hastily disentangle yourselves from one another, scrambling to restore the kitchen counter to its innocent state. Evan wipes his mouth off and adjusts his tousled hair, discreetly holding his erect crotch until it comes to ease. All the while, you straighten your dishevelled clothes and ram panicked legs through your panties, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

You and Evan exchange a quick, sheepish glance just as the landlord swings the door open.

“Hey there! Just wanted to check on the leaky toilet upstairs,” the landlord exclaims, oblivious to your eat-out moment.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated; consider them a warm, fuzzy thank-you hug from yours truly💙

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[kai-anderson-whore]

Appreciation (Kai Anderson x fem reader smut)

Summary: your Kai’s most loyal follower and he shows you that it didn’t go unnoticed

Warnings: smut, rough sex, choking, spanking nothing too crazy.

Word count: 1k

A/n: here’s another short one. I don’t really like this as much I had a whole thing for this but work got in the way.

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

The light in the basement barely light the room, eerie the room felt and the atmosphere within the room. You stood in front of your divine ruler Kai Anderson as he examined you like a wild animal watching their prey. You felt nervous Kai asked to speak to you privately only thing was you wouldn't know if it was good or bad.

You knew you followed his every instructions without hesitation, you were devoted to him he was god like to you and many of his loyal followers. But you would bend over backwards for kai and he knew this and used it to his advantage. "Y/n I've seen how loyal you have been to me so don't think it's going unnoticed, you truly go above and beyond for the movement" kai said with a expressionless composure.

You bit your lip in nervousness you wouldn't know what was going to happen next, he took steps closer to you taking your chin between his fingertips. Nodding your head you listened carefully to kai like always. "So in appreciation to your unconditional loyalty and gratitude, I want to reward you" Kai gestured you to take his hand guiding you to the couch in the middle of the basement.

The mood in the room shifted Kai's grip on your hand was soft unlike any other time when it would hurt. His eyes showed a little emotion unlike the deadness they always held. You both sat on the couch before you could say anything Kai crashed his rough lips on your soft ones. You felt the air getting knocked out your lungs the kiss fulfilled with hunger and lust.

You felt like putty in his cruel hands, his grip on your neck holding you in place, his lips showed dominance as they attacked your own. A moan left your lips, your body laid on on the sofa Kai straddling you, his hands roaming under your t-shirt exploring every curve of your body. You shivered in anticipation under his touch. Feeling a rush of wetness soak your panties, Never did your thought you would ever have Kai like this, you only dreamed of this moment for so long.

Kai pulled your t-shirt off your body throwing it near the tv in front of you both. You sat up only to be pushed back down by his grip on your neck. A moan left your lips as his grip tightened. "Such a dirty little slut" he smirked darkly you felt a rush of weakness soak through your panties hearing him degrading you. Kai then proceeded to remove your underwear not bothering to remove the skirt that was hiked up over your ass now.

Kai was quick to remove all his clothes, you felt embarrassed you never been like this with Kai before, it felt like the first time all over again. "Come on don't be shy, you were quite loud with my hand around your neck" he remarked cockily. You slowly spread your legs allowing Kai to slot himself between them.

Kai wasted no time entering your wet heat without warning. You let out a cry "FUCK", your hands gripped the armrest of the couch. His thrusts were fast already not giving you time to adjust. Even though you never slept with Kai before you knew he wasn't the kind to be soft and gentle not that you minded him being rough.

"Fuck your pussy feels so good" Kai hissed through gritted teeth.

Your body jolted violently, Kai's hips slamming against yours. Your loud moans filled the basement, Kai's hard grip on your hip you were sure he would leave bruises there as well as his grip on your throat. You mind clouded you never been fucked like this before by anyone you couldn't get enough of it.

Kai suddenly pulled out of you, a disappointed groan left your lips looking up at him. "What's wrong?" You asked breathlessly moving your hair away from your face. "Turn around" kai instructed you did as you were told your arms and chin resting on the armrest of Kai's sofa, wiggling your ass in-front of your divine ruler.

Kai re-positioned himself with your entrance, giving your ass a smack before ramming himself into you. "Fuck Kai" you cried out. His hand kept colliding with your ass leaving red hand prints on the flesh. The feeling felt so good, "fuck your so tight" Kai grunted his thrusts showing you no mercy.

You soon felt dangerously close to the edge, "I'm so close" you warned Kai pulled you by the throat so your back was flush against him. Your hand holding onto the headrest of the sofa to steady yourself as Kai thrusted up into you. "Don't cum yet" he instructed you moaned out in disappointment but tried your best to follow his instructions.

Kai's grip on your throat tightened his free hand trailed down your body to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves "Kai please let me cum please" you choked out your legs trembling, you felt Kai begin to twitch inside of you "cum for me" he whispered into your ear. You didn't need to be told twice letting go over Kai's cock with a loud moan.

Your legs trembling more as your orgasm ripped through you like nothing before, Kai continues to thrust into you keeping his harsh pace. Tears picked your eyes with overstimulation till Kai's hips stilled, spilling his seed into you with a low moan. Your legs still trembled feeling full.

Kai pulled out once he was done you tried to push yourself off the sofa but your legs didn’t allow you. Kai dressed himself whilst you tried to collect yourself pulling your skirt down. “Get cleaned up we have a meeting in twenty minutes” was the last thing Kai had said to you.

You got cleaned up and redressed just in time for the rest of the cult coming in the basement. Kai gave his lecture never taking his eyes off you, blushing at the eye contact you wondered when the next time you would be alone with Kai. Clinging on to his every last word you really were his most loyal follower.

[hauntedrose555]

I JUST FOUND OUT THAT KIT WALKER IS A TAURUS LIKE MEEE!

[not-alien-girl-v]

Evan Peters Masterlist

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Characters I Write For:

AHS

Tate Langdon

Kit Walker

Kyle Spencer

Jimmy Darling

James March

Kai Anderson

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:��ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

My Favs

Frat Boy Kyle 3: This Time It's Personal

Sick

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

* signifies smut

The Evans

Evans + PDA

Evans as Nicole Dollanganger Songs

Heights of the Evans

Evans x Manic Pixie Dream Girl

Evans + Gas Station Orders

Evans + Internet HCs

Evans as Ethel Cain Songs

Tate Langdon

Tate HCs 1

Tate HCs 2

Love Languages

Tate x ADHD!Reader

Road Trip HCs

Beach Day

Tate Gets Jealous

Tate HCs Pt 3

Tate x Cooking

Tate x Romance

Picnic + Running Away

Fluff Alphabet

Coldstone

Tate x Transmasc!Reader

Tate x Plus Size!Reader

Kit Walker

Anything and Everything

Love Languages

Kyle Spencer

Halloween

Frat Boy Kyle

Frat Boy Kyle Again

Frat Boy Kyle 3: This Time Its Personal

Frat Boy Kyle 4: The Squeakquel

Frat Boy Kyle 5: This Time They Fight and its Stupid

Frat Boy Kyle 6: They Break Up?!?!

James March

Sick

Love Languages 

Kai Anderson

Love Languages 

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

𝙍𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙄𝙣𝙛𝙤

𝙊𝙥𝙚𝙣!!! 𝙄 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 + 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩 + 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 + 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩

𝙄 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙔/𝙉, 𝙪𝙣𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚 + 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 / 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙙𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙩.

𝙎𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮. 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙪𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖 / 𝙖𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘 / 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄’𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙪𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙞𝙩. 𝙄’𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.

𝘽𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮, 𝙢𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙗𝙚 𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙣, 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙄 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙡𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢, 𝙄’𝙢 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙄’𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙖 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄’𝙡𝙡 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙨 𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄’𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙤 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜!

𝙎𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙤𝙧 𝙖 𝙙𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩!! 𝙄 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙢𝙠 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 + 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙚𝙭. 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮, 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮, 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧.