#james patrick march x you

[taintandviolent]

Devil's Favours - James March x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Can I help you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I forgot my key, wait I –” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl, sit there.”

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

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

“N-no, no… no please.”

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

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

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

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

“What!? Inevitable for what?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who you callin’ weirdo, bitch?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dinner… is served.” James said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, there you are.” He crooned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pl-please… don’t kill me… please…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You mewled in response, snot dripping from your nose. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[slutforgarlogan]

Matching Wounds | James Patrick March x F! reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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

#evan peters #american horror story #evan peters smut #ahs smut #james patrick march #james patrick march smut #james patrick march x reader #james patrick march x you #tate langdon #kai anderson #kyle spencer #jimmy darling #peter maximoff #rory monahan

[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

#personal #evan peters #evan peters imagine #american horror story #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters x reader #ahs fanfic #james patrick march x you #james patrick march imagine #james patrick march #james patrick march x reader #james patrick march smut #evan peters fluff #evan peters x you #evan peters angst #evan peters fanfic #evan peters characters #evan peters smut #tate langdon #ahs #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x female reader #ahs hotel #american horror story smut #american horror story imagine #American horror story hotel #jpm smut #jpm imagine #jpm #tate Langdon Ahs

[joshlmbrt]

In Sickness & In Health. (j. patrick march x reader)

‘I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR YOU, MY DEAREST.’

【𝜗𝜚 warnings; none really, just r being sick and james being, lovesick james making sure r is cared for! this takes place before his death. this is also kind of short - i apologize!

【𝜗𝜚 an; i hope you enjoy this and i hope you are feeling better love!! thank you for requesting!

James winces when he hears the sound of your gravely cough - the sound making his own chest hurt. He rubs at it before unlocking the door.

He frowns, dark eyes landing on you. You were shivering under blankets, but sweat made your face look slightly oily.

“Oh, dearest.” He walks over, reaching out to place the back of his palm on your forehead.

You turn away. “Don’t look at me or touch me,” Your voice sounded raw. “I don’t look well and I don’t want you to get sick.”

“You look as beautiful as ever,” He sits next to you. “And I need to check to see if your fever has gone down.”

You peek at him. He nods, a soft smile on his lips.

For a man who had a ‘odd’ job, he was such a caring man.

“Also, I’m here for you. In sickness and health.” He reaches out, pressing the back of his palm against your forehead.

Your eyes flutter close, the cold ring feeling nice on your warm skin.

“Oh,” He hums and stands from the bed. “You need to take your medicine and a shot of some whiskey.”

You make a face. “The medicine tastes funny and I don’t feel like having a drink.”

He chuckles, making his way towards the small collection of drinks, pouring you a shot before walking towards you.

“Dearest, this is supposed to help. It has a bit of honey - not the fake one. You know me,” He holds the glass to your lips, his other hand resting on the back of your head. “Now, let’s get you all better, hm? You’re my right hand.”

You nod slightly, top lip bumping the rim before leaning your head back. He’s careful pouring it into your mouth. He places the glass down on the nightstand before reaching over and wiping at the corner of lips.

You swallow, shivering at the taste, brows pinching together. He chuckles and leans down, pressing a kiss to the line. You hum softly.

Not being able to help himself, he leans down further and presses two quick pecks against your lips.

“James-”

“I know, Dearest. But I couldn’t help it,” He shakes his head and stands up to his full height. He tucks some hair behind your ear. “Would you like a warm bath?” His thumb trails across your jaw.

One thing about James, his love language was physical touch. Not that you minded.

“Please?” You stare up at him, eyes glassy. He nods, sending you a smile. You’re quick to grab ahold of his wrist before he could walk away, he stares down at you pressing a kiss against his palm before resting your cheek against his palm again.

“Thank you for taking care of me, my beloved.”

His fingers twitch against the side of your face and he nods with a small smile. “I would do anything for you, my dearest.”

【𝜗𝜚 james patrick march tags; @maeriavizsendingjpmdose, @kaismanwich

【𝜗𝜚 request by; @slvt4jamesmarch

【𝜗𝜚 thank you for reading! comments, feedback, likes, reblogs, & request are always welcomed, encouraged, and deeply appreciated!

#james patrick march x reader #james patrick march x you #evan peters x reader #evan peters x fem!reader #evan peters x you #jimmy darling x reader #kit walker x reader #kai anderson x reader #warren lipka x reader #colin zabel x reader

[marchsfreakshow]

Comforting A Murder [James Patrick March]

Hurt/Comfort // Smut. (I guess?)

Well you did it. You finally murdered someone, but right in the middle of a mess James wants to clean up. You attempt to comfort eachother...

18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: dub-con, PnV, quick fuck?, James being James.

Brb inspiring this off of ep.9 and 10. Had no ideas anymore so I figured basing this off an episode or two would help me write this.

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Oh, your pretty red dress. Ruined by the darkness of fresh blood. Arms and legs decorated by splashes of someone's else liquid soul. A beautiful decorated purple gun, turned black, dripping. Eyes widened; scared, confused, joy? Your mind racing with thoughts of what others would think.

Others? Each ghost more insane than the last? They didn't care. Most, happy by your calling. Liz, your best friend, daring you to talk to someone. "Talking to James will do good my dear. I understand he is in love with the countess still, but you know he takes interest in you as well."

"Sure.." A shaky word left your brain as you stood straight, gripping onto the used gun like it was a dying breath. "But... Jesus Liz, he's so... intimidating."

"Only if you don't talk to him." She stated. You took a deep breath and a step back, staring at the now decomposing lady that you laid bare. Flesh, body and soul ripped down the middle after a shot in the head. "A wonderful killing. Just like you." Liz was never too interested in the killing around the Cortez, but the way you killed... invigorating.

" 'suppose." You undressed as quickly as you killed, picking up a purple dress. The same shape, size and glimmer as the one you had murdered in. Your body still dripping in red.

"go like that. Go and find him right now."

"like this? No. Liz no! I can't. I have to wash myself. And my gun."

She shook her head and took a small drag of her cigarette. "No. Go find him. Now."

After a long silence, you took a deep and long breath, debating whether or not you should find the prolific killer. So you agreed. Walking out of the room and leaving the open torso to bleed dry, Liz watched, maybe silently judging you. You could never tell. The still image ran in your head as you walked. The heart slowing down, and the stomach just sat there, begging to be opened so the acid could dissolve everything else.

"...James." You saw him standing there, looking bewildered. He had been slapped, in front of an open hallway. An open hallway? Why on earth...? But you whispered his name as you took a step closer, transferring your gun from one hand to the other. "James.." you cleared your throat, looking down to the ground, feeling insecure. The killer looked at you, and smiled, taking his hand off his face.

"Ah, love. You look...ravishing, and a gun? My." He started, his smirk coming back to him. Nervous and worried, a blush appeared, and your hands were shaky again. The gun was still coloured darkly, leaving little trails of blood behind you. If there was any more blood on you, you would look like Carrie, an icon to you and your deranged but silent mind. "May I ask, your kill you have come back from?"

"a lady. Insulted my dress. Shot her head, then...ripped her torso. Neck to crotch." You admitted, looking everywhere but in his eyes. Another step towards you. He took your hand and looked lovingly at the gun.

"I'm so proud my dear." A teacher, smiling widely at his student, blood smearing itself over both your hands. You stared at his hands. Such precious jewels, covered in a dark thick liquid, a gun being shared between two. A small gulp and another deep breath. "What are you nervous about?" He asked as you looked up to the open hallway, a looming darkness. It scared you, but you never showed it. You wanted to impress James, being scared would annoy him.

Oh just how wrong you were. James could tell you were scared about what could have been lurking in the hallway. What a wonderful thing to use to his advantage. "This hallway is empty my darling. Nothing exists here." He simply stated. Innocently looking back up to him and seeming like you didn't understand anything he was saying. Like you didn't believe him. "Go on. Walk in. You have your dear gun, use it if need to." Absolutely not.

But a cold hand on your back, pushing you in. It left a faint handprint on you, and James noticed, letting out a small chuckle. It rang through the looming hallway, making you shake more. Holding the gun in front of you, worriedly looking around. Then a shot. You shot something. You think. Maybe? But you turned and ran. Ran into James' chest, even if he didn't wrap his arms around you as you secretly hoped he would. "You found something?"

"I think...I think so?" Your voice was hurried, and resting your head on his chest.

"Come dear. Let's take you away from this." He placed a dead hand on the small of your back, still bloody. The blood on you was decently dried now, feeling unable to wash it off. Eyes always straight and front as you both walked. Meeting anyone's eyes would increase your guilt about the murder. Such a beautiful but meaningless kill in James' mind. Killing someone for insulting your pretty red dress? Insanity.

James' room appeared before you, and you were led into it. Cold but comforting. A room you had wanted to go into. Forever. Everything interested you. Mindlessly, you started to wander around. Leaving gentle touches over every surface. The interest you two had with each other, coming to light. Your wonder and innocence, lit up when you walked around. Going in circles, your hand loosening around the firearm you held so dear. A beautiful thing, all based on your personality. James picked it up as you stepped in another circle, staring out of the window.

Ah, the open world. Nothing you missed. Bullied for the way you worked, and how you carried yourself. You left the daylight alone and stayed in the Cortez. Liz and Iris helping you with anything you need from the open world. "Dear. You are lost again." James murmured, standing behind you. A breath? Maybe? By the crook of your neck. "Ah yes, the life outside of this hotel. You should not worry about it, my dear. You are here now. You are here forever, murdering just because?"

Words that left him, and made you shiver. "But, I want the life again."

"I understand darling, but you must understand that this hotel can offer you more. Offer you something you could not find outside." A hand, gripping the front of your neck, thick fingers finding a vein and pressing on it, hard. "The people here are dangerous, wonderful. Full of deprived attraction." A hitch in your breath as the pressure got harder and harder. The stopping of your breath and its effects on James were pressed against your back. Was he really getting hard at this? Really? Okay...

"James..." All you did was lean against him, your neck open to him again, so many possibilities, and so many things he could do to you. A low groan, maybe a snarl leaving him. His free hand exploring your side, gripping at the dress fabric and feeling the dried blood on you. Every touch felt odd like you shouldn't be enjoying it so much. But your love for James, and the way your need for him manifested as killing for him. Innocents who did nothing to you but make a snarky comment, a little joke. Why was he so irresistible to you? A killer who died nearly 100 years ago, who loves murder, fine absthine, and his students.

Wandering hands trailing down your back, pulling down the zipper. The purple fabric fell swiftly off you, pooling around your flats and the blood-covered legs of yours. All this talk and touch of murder, blood, opening someone up, it was nothing but erotica turned real to him. Such a need for someone he did not know too well. Who was he to deny such a gift? Deny the chance to make someone feel something other than rage and upset.

Such moveable skin in front of him, the way he touched and practically groped you, making you feel mindless already. Your head, silently thrown back onto James' shoulder, feeling every touch he gave. The way he gripped onto your hips, such a need and desire in him. You practically threw yourself onto the bed, but sat on your knees politely. Even when a feeling of warmth spread through you, nerves were still there and you never wanted to upset your dear so. Shy, doe eyes watching a ghost undress. A quick coyote, readying himself to catch the doe it craved.

Silence in your voices, but catching breaths, underwear ripped off of you. You were being pulled up from your knees and pushed down onto all fours. He fucked like you were going away that night. Barely any time to catch your breath as he kept going.

Faster.

Harder.

Fucking you like the world was ending. Your moans; loud, unfiltered, they could be heard anywhere in the Cortez. His were reserved but animalistic in nature, never giving you a break. You screamed his name, as he yelled yours. Bruises were appearing on your neck, hips and thighs.

When had the dam been broken? You wondered as you cleaned yourself up, starting to sit up. Looking over to your side, James was half-dressed already. "I will admit my darling, that blood drying itself on you truly is enchanting." He nonchalantly mentioned, walking over to where you sat. A little hum in response, looking to the side where James was not. The ghost pulled your face towards him and left a kiss on your wanting lips. Pushing yourself forward to try and kiss him again, only to be denied.

Only to be denied as he picked up that purple gun you adored.

Only to be denied as he reloaded it.

Only to be denied as he aimed it at your worrying face.

BANG.

Only to be denied one last breath, one that you could've kissed him again with.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tag: @babygorewhore @taintandviolent @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @nahoyasboyfriend @slutforgarlogan @slvt4jamesmarch @tatelangdonsweater @feefymo @fear-is-truth

#ahs #evan peters #american horror story #james patrick march #james march #ahs hotel #Hotel #james march x reader #James Patrick March x reader #James March x you #james Patrick march x you #smut #ahs imagines #ahs smut #jpm x you #jpm x reader #jpm smut #james march x you #james march smut #james Patrick march smut #lord

[marchswifey]

James Patrick March’s NSFW alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Cuddles. He may be rough and nasty but he wants cuddles after sex. Of course, he was so close to you just a mere few minutes ago, still he finds himself wanting to be closer.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

His favorite part of you would be your thighs, he loves squeezing them while eating you out and feeling them wrapping around his head. He also love kissing your inner thighs teasing you.

On himself he likes his shoulders, he feels strong and absolutely loves lifting your legs up on them while fucking you.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

When James comes he really wants to get inside you so he can see how you react to feeling his seed inside you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He secretly wants you to dominate him but he would never ask for it because of his big pride.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot experienced, of course.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

He loves it when you ride him. The way he gets to look at you as you absolutely destroy him. He likes a lot also doggy style and missionary.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

No. He’s serious and focused on your both pleasure during sex.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Natural. Not overwhelming but it's there.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Incredibly romantic, or at least he tries to be. He is soft and kind to you to show you how much he loves you and takes care of you.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

Not often but when you’re not in the hotel and he’s feeling horny he would do something for himself.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

A LOT.

Bondage, wax play, impact play, teasing, handcuffs, ball gags, pulling hair, sensory deprivation, pet names, being called "master" or "daddy". And definitely knife play.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Mostly his suite, but also in one of his special rooms around the hotel (Imagine him fucking you in the room where he burns peoples and when he just had burned one minutes before. Nasty)

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

James loves seeing you in lingeries. Every type or fabric, especially lace.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He's basically gonna do anything, but he would hate to cause you too much pain since you’re his beloved, so he won’t leave any too lasting injuries on your body.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes to give and receive in the same way.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the situation, if he’s really turned on he’s very rough. But he can be also slow in attempt to tease you or make the moment last longer.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn't against it, he'll do it. It's just not his favorite. He likes to take his time and he wants to be buried deep for as long as he can.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

HE HIMSELF IS THE RISK

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

He can last very long since he’s a ghost, you would stop just because you’re tired but he could go on and on without stopping.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He owns a few…

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He loves teasing you and seeing you desperate to be fucked.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

HE’S LOUD doesn't even try to hide his moans and grunts.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

He loves when you call him "master" or "sir", it makes him harder than a rock and makes him fuck you harder.

Also he would be extremely protective of you. He threatened every single ghost of the Cortez, if anyone tries to touch or hurt you he knows how to make them suffer even if they’re already dead.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

A solid 8 inches, thick.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Before meeting you sex wasn’t that important to him, his only pleasure was murdering. But then he became hornier than a teenager.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He doesn’t sleep, you always fall alseep first.

#american horror story #evan peters #ahs fanfic #fanfic #headcanon #smut #james patrick march smut #evan peters imagine #james patrick march x you #james patrick march #ahs hotel #american horror story hotel #jpm #james patrick march x reader #jpm smut #jpm x reader #ahs #y/n

[jellyluvr]

Two firsts

- Jpm x virgin fem reader 𖦹•°.

Uh so the title is really bad, but I promise the fic is good. I hope. :') special color 4 James too

Tw: facial, James bein a little forceful, reader loses virginity, some blood, and a creampie. 🤧

S: you went down to the bar in the hotel to have a drink but James had other plans for you.

You had been staying at this cute little hotel you found. Atleast that's what you thought. It was nice. You loved it, even if you had only been staying there for a few hours. I mean, it was a wonderful place. All big, nice rooms. You even got some sort of special treatment.

But, tonight you were going down to the bar. You looked in the mirror, fluffing your hair and posing to make sure you looked nice. Of course you did. You looked perfect. Your black dress hugged your skin, your chest framed perfectly in it. Your little heels were even better, black with twinkly accents.

You looked down at your heels, observing them on you and in the mirror. You hummed to yourself. You looked good.. but was there something better you could wear? You sighed, moving your head up to stare at yourself in the mirror. No.. this was good. This was great, really. Anyone would like it down there. If they didn't, they could kiss your ass. It'd probably be some junkie with no sense of self care. This.. this was good.

With that, you walked over to your purse and pulled out a lip tint, a nice rosey color. You dipped it in, letting some fall to make sure you didn't apply too much. Then, you walked back to the mirror, getting close and squinting your eyes. You focused on your lips, the small brush grazing over the inner part. You rubbed them together, wiping some in the right direction with your thumb.

Damn you looked hot.

You'd probably smash yourself if you ever got the chance. Not that you hadn't already.. but you weren't exactly an angel. Yea, you were a virgin. But you were a bad virgin. You always dirty danced with men at different clubs, never getting their number or going out to their car. You were simply just a virgin that wanted to save her sweetness for the right person. Of course you acted innocent and nice. That was the only way you could get guys to melt in your hands.

When you found out their real personalities, their eagerness.. you left. You just left, not looking back. You weren't obligated to have sex. You could be a virgin forever if you wanted.. but you only wanted the right man. The right man to fulfill your needs. Your wants.

You put the lip tint back in your small purse, then took it in your hand before walking over to the door. You practiced your walk as you did, also in the halls after you shut your door and made sure to lock it. You liked how old fashioned the hotel was. Still using keys and having to pick up ice.

You admired the work they put into the hotel, the nice carpet and archways. You loved the hotel. Cortez was catchy too. That was the main reason you came, and because there was a bar.

You had never drank before. Not even the smallest amount. That was why the bar was so special to you. Yeah, you were pretty young to drink but no one was stopping you?

You continued to walk down the halls, fixing your heels every moment. You hated these heels. You also hated the way the yellow lights illuminated your face. I mean, you probably looked horrible now. But, you strutted down the hallway, clearly walking with a purpose.

You turned the corner, the elevator greeting you. You walked in, your heels clicking on the glass. Then, of course, you pressed the number one on the golden buttons and waited for the doors to close. Thankfully the elevator was so well kept there was a nice shiny surface to check if you looked good on.

You got closer to the reflection and made sure everything looked good. No smudges.. so that was great.

The ding of the elevator brought you back to life, also the little bit of shaking. As the doors opened, you watched a few people come in. You were glad they didn't look as good as you.

You walked out, shaking your head slightly to get some hair out of your face. And finally.. you saw the bar. But, there was a man, talking with the bartender.

She looked nice, a cute dress honestly. But, you still hopped up on one of the red leather stools and settled there. You let your weight sink into the sticky seat before turning in it. You loved spinny stools. They were your favorite.

"Ooo, what's your name?" The bartender asked, cooing at you for whatever reason. You laughed lightly, a little embarrassed from the call out.

"Y/n." You responded quickly after your giggles, but the man turned to you watching as you got settled.

"Pretty name for a pretty lady.." Liz said, chuckling to herself, "mmm, but anyway, what'd you like, hun?" She asked smiling at you as her nails clicked against the glass top of the bar.

You looked at all the choices and you didn't really know what to choose.. it was all really overwhelming.. maybe just a beer? But what beer?? Shit...

"Are you even old enough to drink?" The man asked, staring at you. You just looked over, your body becoming stiff. "Uh, yeah? Duhhhh???"

It was so obvious you were lying. The man chuckled to himself, then looking over to Liz.

"Get her a shot, a shooter. Surprise me." He smiled at her, his dimples peeking through while Liz let out a soft hm, then turning around and doing whatever to make a shooter.

The man then turned to you. "You think you can handle that?" He asked, clearly mocking you in some way. You just stared for a second, nodding. You were still stuck on what a shooter was but you didn't really care. You didn't mind embarrassing yourself in front of anyone.. not even him.

"How old are you, dear?" He asked in a more sweet tone than earlier. Then took a sip of his whiskey, reveling in the taste with a click of his tongue.

"I'm y/a." You said proudly despite the number being pretty low. Especially low.. and you were drinking?? How rebellious of you.

"Really?" He said, seeming to be a little shocked. He looked over at you, taking a glance at your boobs before pulling himself back together.

"Well, would you like to go to my office after this? I am paying for you after all.." his finger tip grazed over the rim of his glass while he awaited your answer. He knew it wouldn't be no.

"Sure." You said, not seeming to be too afraid. He looked nice.. hot outfit honestly. He really pulled off the suspenders. And his hair? It was slicked back perfectly, his brown eyes almost matching the jet black. You really almost got lost within him.

But then, Liz passed you your shot and you immediately looked down at it. A slight tint of pink was in it, but mostly clearish. You smelt it, clearly a bit suspicious of it.

"It's just a shot, it won't kill you." He said, watching you closely. So you took the glass and thought about it. It was a shooter.. so like the movies? Just shoot it down?

You shot it down, but you immediately winced at the taste. It burned your throat.. your nostrils almost burned. James laughed at how you acted. It was obvious you hadn't ever drank before. Let alone a shot being your first.

"Mm. Did it taste nice?" He looked at you, a grin on his face. All you could get out was a mhm before getting up off the stool, your thighs sticking to it.

"Okay.. let's go please?" You asked, looking down at the ground while you tried to get that taste out of your mouth.

James laughed again, drinking the rest of his whiskey and paying Liz. She knew exactly what was going to happen but she didn't say anything. She just stayed quiet, picking up the glasses and putting them somewhere.

"Alright then.." he got off his stool with a little huff before beginning to walk, not seeming to care if you were following or not. You immediately caught up, stumbling a bit from your heels.

"Follow me, dear." He said, walking over to the halls connected to the upstairs. You followed like he said, eventually catching up to be beside him. Then, you walked for awhile before coming up to a room. 64.

He pulled a key out of his pocket, it clinking and clacking before he opened the door, guiding you in.

It looked nice. 2 chairs infront of you, a closet, another closet on the left?, the bed to the right, and facing the bed the bathroom on the left. You sat down on the bed, looking around. You enjoyed the retro looks of the hotel. You loved it.

James' room looked different than all the others.. more fancy. Or retro. You still liked it though. You let the room sink in while you listened to James lock the door, then walk over to you.

"So, what would you like to do first, my dear?" He asked, his voice smooth but rocky at the same time. But, you really didn't know. Not unless he wanted to fuck? But you we're too young for him.. I mean, that was what you inferred from him being so shocked about your age earlier.

In reality, James was just thrilled. He always preferred younger and prettier girls.. they were most easy to kill and touch.. everything was for his pleasure, really.

"Charades..?" You said sheepishly. James immediately began to laugh, his body coming closer, putting you face to face with his junk.

You couldn't really tell if he was hard or not, it was rude to stare. James clearly didn't care about that rule though. His eyes went to your chest once more, then back up to your eyes.

"I think I have an idea.." he hummed, his hand pushing you back on the bed. Once he did, his hands grazed over your chest while you just laid there in shock. You didn't even get to comprehend what was going on.

James' veiny hands slipped under your slutty dress, immediately toying with your panties. James smirked, looking up at your surprised face.

"This okay?" Before you could even nod, his fingers had slipped in your panties. They went in between your folds, touching your slight wetness.

"Already wet for me?" He chuckled lightly, taking his fingers out before his hands pulled you closer to him, your thighs pushed up against his. He dropped your legs, his hands now focusing on getting his pants off. He kicked them off his feet, unbuttoning his shirt as soon as he did.

James was now presentable. Only his underwear were on and you saw how his erection was building.

"Take that dress off, please?" He smiled, already pulling up your dress so you had the help. You pulled it off, feeling your heat rise as well. Once it was right on your chest, you pulled it off your head your tits bouncing from the friction.

"Mm.." he hummed, snapping your panties against your skin before pulling them up, revealing your heat. He looked down at your pussy, then back up at your face. 'When he reaches down to feel how wet you are' meme was starting to make a lot of sense.

Before you could say anything, James' underwear were off and he pushed into you, making you gasp for air. He looked at your face, laughing lightly before thrusting a little harder. He heard your moans, but he didn't seem to care. You'd have to get accustomed to his cock soon, and you being a virigin didn't help.

"God, you're tight.." he groaned, his hands holding onto your thighs as he thrusted into you at a good pace, making your chest bounce up and down.

He began to thrust harder, making you squirm a bit, maybe even yelp. You whimpered at the painful feeling, trying to find the pleasure. James continued to assault your pussy, making you cum all around him. It didn't take long, not at all. James was still going though.

"Mmm! Fuck!!" You shouted, James smiling at his work. He looked at your stomach, it moving just barely from his size. His right hand went on your stomach, pushing down to give himself more pleasure.

James groaned, feeling his orgasm near. You just let him fuck you relentlessly.. you started to like the pain.. the pleasure. It mixed well. Especially with his size.

James continued to thrust, all the blood in his body going to the tip of his cock while he continued to pound into you. His forehead began to sweat, his hair getting all messy from his movements. But then, you felt a gush of heat inside you and a moan from James his last thrust sloppy. You moaned feeling him pull out... your pussy coated with your arousal and dripping with his white cum.

He panted looking down at your cunt, then sticking a finger in your once tight pussy to stuff you with his cum even more. He pulled his finger out, a little bit of red on it. Your eyes widened, his too.

"Mm.. what a tragedy. You lost your virginity to a man you don't even know." He laughed lightly, crawling up on the bed beside you while you just laid there in utter shock.

"Can I taste you..?" You asked, looking over to him. He looked at you, another devilish smile creeping on his face.

"Sure.. go on." He encouraged, leaning up as he watched you move in between his legs. You looked at his cock, it being soft.

Your hand wrapped around his shaft, slowly moving up and down. James let out a little moan, his cock growing hard again despite the over sensitivity.

You looked at his tip, your lips ghosting it while you looked up at his face, a smile on it. Your tongue peeks out and you began to kitten lick his slit, wincing at the taste. You quickly got used to the salty flavor, letting your lips enclose over his tip, your tongue twirling around to pleasure him.

He moaned a little more, his hand moving up into your hair as he guided you. He bobbed your head up and down, more noises coming from him. You gagged a little, but he continued.

"Fuck..." he groaned, his voice raspy now. His tip hit the back of your throat, then his tip went to your lips and repeat. Finally, he let go.

"Open your mouth.." he said in breathy tone. So, you did, your tongue out. You watched as his hand went to pump himself, him letting out squeaks along the way.

He continued, feeling his next orgasm creep closer and closer before he came. He had originally aimed for your mouth, but he didn't really care. I mean, his eyes were closed. Once his thick cum left ribbons of white on your face, he opened his eyes, laughing a little.

"You look so pretty like that, sweetheart." He sighed, still smiling to himself. You wiped the cum off your face, letting it into your mouth while you savored the taste.

—20 minutes later—

James had fallen asleep and you had taken it as your chance to get dressed once more. You went to the bathroom, looking into the mirror while you tried to fix yourself up, also trying to get his finish off.

But, once you looked at your lips you saw the lip tint was still there.

It was good you used it for this occasion.. it couldn't help but make you smile.

‐☆ 𝕭𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖘 ☆‐

I don't have a divider currently so you have to make do** with that. (I used the wrong due omg)

Sorry if this is bad, I did try. Plus it's long asf. Anyways, ty 4 readin

#evan peters #evan peters characters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters smut #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x reader #james patrick march x reader #jpm x reader #jpm x y/n #james patrick march #james patrick march x you #jpm x you #ahs hotel #ahs smut #american horror story #american horror story hotel #evan peters icons #evan peters x female reader #ahs

[my-own-walker]

hii can you do a james smut where he and the reader are a couple and during the devil's night the reader talks a lot with one of the guests and james gets jealous?

If You Were A Blood-Letter

note: yes indeedy anon, i can give it a stab for ya

warnings: sm*t duh, fem!reader, murder mentions and stuff, violence mentions, dom JPM, low-key degradation maybe??, choking, James being rough, etc

+++

It was the night we had been looking forward to for the whole year.

Before James, it was just Halloween to me. A night of children knocking on doors in cheap costumes begging for candy from strangers. It was drinking too much at some party in a slutty costume to impress some guy. It was carving pumpkins and corny movies and the doorbell ringing all night.

But with James, it wasn’t ‘Halloween.’ It was Devil’s Night. It was our special day. All of our heroes came to celebrate in a night of utterly disturbing splendor. We reveled in the chaos and the indecent.

We were an infamous duo known around the Cortez. Our murder sprees were revered by many. James didn't expect me to be so ruthless when we met. I truly appreciated regular nights of the old 'ultra-violence.' It made James crazy for me.

The first time I killed someone was under the careful supervision of my dear James. It was exhilarating. An immediate addiction. As he drank in the flash of sinful delight that flashed across my eyes when I plunged the knife into the repairman's chest, he knew he had found a soulmate in me.

We, as partners in crime, took great pride in our Devil's Night celebration. I adopted James' tradition. Took to it like a duck to water. I was awe-struck meeting the likes of Richard Ramirez and Aileen Wuornos.

This particular year, we were more than excited to welcome the Zodiac Killer for the first time. The actual Zodiac, maskless. He had attended the soiree some years prior, but James implored him not to return unless he would shed his cowardice. Hiding behind a mask was a sign of weakness in James' eyes.

The Zodiac's RSVP to the event was a welcome arrival at our door. And when he showed up the night of, we were more than elated to see the man behind the murder. We, arm-in-arm, greeted him at the door with bright smiles. We fashioned ourselves to be a bit like Morticia and Gomez Addams, in a way. In short, I'll admit, we were slightly corny. A caricature of murderers in love.

I was entranced by our new guest, though. As the night roared on, I couldn't help but gravitate toward The Zodiac Killer. His tales of murder and woe were of much interest to me. Gacy droned on about the same clown costume story he did every year. I had heard Ramirez's cool-guy act before. I wanted to know all about the new guest. What made him tick.

James shot me a glance across the room as I took up a seat right next to our guest of honor for the fifth time that night. I couldn't quite make out his expression. I assumed it was one of pride and admiration. After minutes of listening to another one of The Zodiac's stories, James approached the table.

'My, you two are fast friends, now, aren't you?' he cooed, a slight edge to his voice. His eyes screwed shut ever so slightly at the word 'fast.'

'He is quite an interesting man, James,' I replied.

'Interesting, you say. Interesting....' he weighed the word aloud as if he didn't quite understand what I meant by it.

'I- I wouldn't say interesting, just new,' The Zodiac clamored shyly. He was being all too modest.

'Y/N, my dear, may I speak with you in the bedroom? At once?' James gritted, extending a hand to help me up. I took it and followed him through the suite, weaving around the sick and twisted activities of the night.

'Ohhhhh! They're gonna fuck!' Ramirez shouted childishly after us. Wuornos cackled obnoxiously.

James held the bedroom door opened and gestured for me to enter. He slammed the door behind him and rounded on me.

'Whatever do you think you're doing?' he whispered harshly, standing so close to me I could hardly breathe. I looked up at him with pleading eyes.

'What do you mean?' I asked, baffled.

'Dallying and toying with our guest of honor,' he spat. 'Like some sort of floozy. Are you trying to embarrass me?'

'No, James, it wasn't like that. At all,' I declared, keeping as level a head as I could. 'I admire him, is all.'

'Admire, you say?' James challenged.

'Oh, stop being a pest!' I cried. 'You're taking everything I'm saying the wrong way on purpose, like a petulant child.'

'I am not being petulant. I am simply protecting what is mine,' he asserted lowly.

'I can handle myself perfectly well, James.'

'You do know you're mine, yes?' he breathed. 'All mine.'

'James-'

I was cut off by him hungrily putting his lips on mine. He grabbed the neckline of my off-the-shoulder gown and tore it brutishly, forgoing the readily available zipper. The fabric fell heavily, pooling at my ankles. He whisked me off my feet and threw me down onto the bed. I sank into the top of the plush duvet, which felt extra soft against my naked skin. Goosebumps covered my whole body.

James stood at the edge of the bed, drinking me in as he briskly took his own clothing off. I panted, awaiting my fate. He joined me, poised just atop me, supporting his weight on his hands. I grabbed his bare shoulders and pulled him in, resuming our kissing.

He lined himself up with my entrance and thrust into me impatiently. I gasped sharply at the sudden contact. His massive cock penetrated me powerfully. He ran his finger over my lips, then dragged it down my body, continuing to drive into me. The other found its place rigidly around my throat. I choked quietly, reveling in the moment. My eyes rolled back in my head as I felt myself start to lose consciousness.

But that wasn't enough.

He pulled out of me and flipped me over harshly, positioning me on my hands and knees.

'Who owns you? Say my name, dearest,' he purred.

'James,' I breathed. He tutted disapprovingly.

'Now now, I won't give you what you want until you say it how I like you to say it,' he scolded. He ran his hand through my hair and tugged tightly, pulling my head back just enough that I could cast my gaze up at him. It was a grip so tight I couldn't help but whimper.

'James,' I pleaded, whining slightly.

'Nuh-uh,' he taunted, 'not quite.' His other hand gripped my ass. His fingers dug into me greedily.

'James!' I cried loudly. It was exactly what he wanted. His hard dick re-entered me from behind, sending shockwaves throughout my middle. He ravaged me, making me squeal and squirm with every pump. The waves of orgasm overtook me, making my vision go blurry and my limbs feel weak, but James wasn't quite finished.

I whimpered loudly as he continued to plunge into me. With a few final thrusts, he came with a stifled groan. He, as a man of class, never came too loudly. After all, we did have guests.

I collapsed onto my stomach much like a ragdoll as James pulled out of me. I felt the pressure on the bed change as James got up to retrieve his undergarments. the man of class also never lounged in the nude. He returned to me and gently coaxed me to turn over. I looked at him through the strands of hair that had fallen into my face.

'My angel,' he sighed. 'All mine.' He grabbed me by my chin and kissed me, softer this time.

I hummed in contentment.

'Are we clear? You are mine,' he asked, pulling away.

'You're my one and only, and I am yours,' I assured with a soft smile.

'Now, shall we return and show them what a united front we are?' he suggested.

'Fuck 'em,' I growled, having regained enough strength to mount him and go for a second round.

+++

I really had a tough time writing this week. Hope I can get back into the swing VERY soon!!

#evan peters #evan peters fic #ahs #evan peters x female reader #evan peters x reader #evan peters oneshot #james patrick march #jpm #james patrick march x you #james patrick march x reader #jpm x reader

[silverzoomies]

Antithesis

james patrick march x reader smut

warnings: smut, slow burn-ish, oral sex, one-sided pining, devotion, body worship, hand jobs, slight choking, pet names, oneshot

word count: 7640

a/n: my apologies if james seems at all ooc here. i try my goddamn hardest to keep characters as close to their source material as possible. but, when it comes to self indulgent smut, sometimes you gotta pull a few strings!!! oh, and i'd also like to apologize for the long length of this fic. and for how abruptly it ends hdsghkjdshkgsg it's a mess, sorry !!

bonus note ig: in 1920's slang, a "goof" is an idiot. james basically thinks of you as naive and dumb here. sorry!

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March doesn’t dislike you. “Dislike” is much too strong a word.

No, he tolerates you. Dare he think it, he might even be somewhat…fond of you. The two of you were born nearly a hundred years apart. And so, as expected, you were the absolute antithesis of one another. March built himself from the ground up. He started with little to nothing. Carrying with him a background he so dreaded to recall. Childhood memories best left buried deep. Never to see the shining light of day again. March walked with a prestigious elegance. Something all but lost to the world in modern times, he thought. He was high-class. New money incarnate. Fancy, social affairs and aesthetic, art-deco decor were his most treasured hobbies. Amongst his other, more…contentious interests. And you. What were you?

Some little goof. You poor thing. Your story was quite the tragedy, really. Born almost one hundred years later to middle class stock. An entirely different world from the one in which March knew. Your arrival to the hotel Cortez was…unfortunate. You were the embodiment of innocence. Overly polite to a fault. Kind to the staff and the hotel’s mysterious residents. Never going out of your way to disturb a single soul. And you always made sure to apologize for the times you did.

And like all lives brought to the Cortez, yours ended there. A shame. A pity. Truly. What a waste. After you died, you drifted aimlessly for a while. Exploring every inch of the hotel you could. Bearing witness to the unspeakable horror that burned like scorching fire from inside. The hotel Cortez was nothing short of the infernal regions made earthly.

Even so, you weren’t the least bit fazed by this fact. Death changed you. It changed your moral perspective.

But you were missing something. A purpose. Every soul, lost adrift, needed purpose.

Liz knew all. 

She knew everything about everyone. Including you. You’d sit at the bar, talking to her for hours on end. About your life. Liz’s life. The lives of the Cortez’s other, ghostly residents. She’d tell you of the hotel and its history. And you learned all there was to know. But in sharing your deepest thoughts, desires, and fears, you’d been a little too open. And Liz learned enough that, had a curious party asked about you? She could easily act as an informant.

You were a poor sap. Harboring a deep rooted, psychological need to please.

In death, you told Liz, you wanted nothing more than, simply…a person. Someone to dedicate yourself to entirely. Someone to love, to adore, to spend all of eternity caring for. Such an innocent desire, from such an unsullied soul.

You heard of him only in passing. James Patrick March.

You knew of his murderous atrocities. And you’d heard whispers of his bloodied history in hushed tones. Liz told you of everything March built, and what he’d become in the process. 

March assumed you thought nothing of it. Nothing of him. Because at the Cortez, he was often that. Nothing more than a rumor. Only making himself present whenever necessary. Any other day? He remained a chilling, ghost story. And that’s all he’d been to you.

Until the two of you crossed paths, that is.

March was polite and courteous, as he always is. And the soulless, empty void of his dark eyes met yours. Pure, beautiful, and innocent. The two of you couldn’t have been more different from one another. You, his polar opposite. If he were the infernal reaches of hell itself, you were the luminous kingdom of heaven.

Whatever you felt for him, it must have been instantaneous.

Because suddenly, your sorrow dissipated. A lifetime of suffering and anguish faded away into thin air. And finally, you were free. Joyous. You, the little goof. Your demeanor somehow became all the more polite and inviting. Ironic, really. Considering…the source of your happiness was the very personification of evil itself.

You’d skip around the hotel with a spring in your step. Greeting everyone who passed you in the halls with a chipper, sunny disposition. Parading around in those loose-fitting clothes. Your skin decorated in ink reminiscent of your rather quirky interests. Appalling, if you were to ask him. 

You were vexatious. And yet…

March found he appreciated your company.

You really were too sweet. Sickeningly so. Like cavity-inducing candy. Truly good at heart. There wasn’t a hateful, nefarious bone in your body. But you were deeply loyal to a fault. It was a weakness that kept you chained. It held you down. Never allowing you to reach your true potential. March could see it. He saw right through you, straight into your delicate soul. He saw your aura. Unsullied purity.

March learned all he could about you from Liz.

And once he had, he felt the need to test your unbroken clarity.

He showed you everything. Every secret. Every piece of gory history which revealed his past, his life’s purpose, his true intentions. The never-ending, torturous suffering he brought upon the innocent lives of the world. He confessed to you his killings. Even going into the dark, gritty details. March stared you down with an empty, far off look in his shady eyes. An uncanny gaze. And he expressed to you all his crazed, degenerate passions.

He expected you to react accordingly. Like any soul so pure and unblemished as yours should.

But death…

Death truly did change you. The hotel Cortez? It corrupted your moral code.

Perhaps he was mistaken. Maybe you weren’t as innocent as you often seemed.

You treated his passions like any other hobby. And you engaged in conversation about them casually. Beaming the brightest, most curious, smile. Your eyes glimmered with genuine interest and fascination. And March found he was more than happy to share that part of himself with you. Delighted to discuss his exploits with a newfound friend. A trusted friend.

He did long for someone to talk to…

And it was then, he realized. He knew. He was woefully fucked.

Because you. Naive, little goof that you were…

You’d found your purpose.

The one person whom you’d give your undying devotion, for forever and into eternity.

No one, not a single soul in the hotel had expected it. When you sat at the bar, sipping on your sweet sodas instead of anything alcoholic (ever the carefree babe, you were). You spoke of having ‘found’ your purpose. And there were smiles all around. “ Ooh’s ” and “ Aah’s ” exchanged through hushed gossip. Who could this person be, they asked themselves.

Imagine the residents’ surprise once they put two and two together.

Of all people. Him? Really? Were you mad as a hatter?

From then on, you followed March everywhere. Attached at his side like a leech. And though he considered you a dear friend, you weren’t much more to him than a loyal dog. You offered your help whenever you saw fit. And, somewhat reluctantly, he allowed it.

To his surprise, March found you respected his personal space. You’d disappear when he found your company too overwhelming. Sometimes, you were gone for days. Or even weeks. Off to explore the hotel again. Or to drift aimlessly as you did in the days before you’d found him. Uncertain as to what you should do in your lonesome. Sometimes, you’d listen to music. Clamorous racket of the modern era.

And eventually, always, you returned.

Sometimes, March found he missed your presence when you were gone.

And despite the admiration you carried for him, you valued March’s love for his dearest wife. The Countess. Often, you’d go so far as to listen to him drone on and on about her. And he could. If March were allowed the opportunity, he’d speak of her for centuries. He’d reminisce about his most cherished memories of her. His Elizabeth. Mrs. March. When March had his monthly dinners with his dearest, you felt it necessary to assist. You were insistent upon it, actually. Helping alongside Ms. Evers, you did what you could to make those nights as grand and romantic as possible. And when he banished Ms. Evers, you didn’t hesitate to take over entirely. Every one of those special nights, you were there to help him prepare.

Once the dinners themselves started, you’d run off. Leaving the pair undisturbed. And he wouldn’t see you again until the next morning. 

One night, March sat across from the countess at the table. She glared at him with a half-lidded, miserable expression. But March missed this glare. Because he’d been busy watching you leave. He smiled, raising his glass to you. And you waved him off, wishing him luck, before closing the door.

At that very moment, he made a decision.

The next night came, and there he sat. Present at the dinner table again. Only, you were his cherished guest of the evening. Dinner lay before you both. Though, in death, you never ate. March watched with a grin as you sipped some champagne. You fluttered delicate lashes his way. Devotion leaking like tears from your eyes. A delighted smile played across your lips. One always present in his company, he found.

“Darling! I assume you’re wondering why it is I’ve called you here tonight, hm?” He posed the question rather excitedly.

Your pretty, doe eyes widened at that. You poor thing. Your cheeks burned in a flurry of rose red. Even in the dim, candle-lit light of the room. Even at a distance, across the table, March could see your blush clear as day. He smirked into his glass. 

Never, in all the years since the two of you met, had he ever addressed you as darling.

The effect this seemed to have on you was very much apparent. He could see the shift in your expression. The way you’d fallen breathless under his cold-blooded gaze. March couldn’t help but find your obvious desire for him…amusing.

“Uhm…y-...yes. Well…sorta? I figured this was just another…casual, hang-out night for us!” Your quiet, timid voice spoke aloud.

March lowered his glass, and he hummed.

“Casual? I suppose one could consider this casual, if they’d prefer.” March said, “All the same, I’ve called you here because…I have a proposition for you!”

“Wh-uh…what kinda proposition, sir?” 

“Let’s not dance around the matter any longer, dear. Simply put, I’m well aware.” He said.

Confusion overtook your delicate features, and your brows knitted together. March sat still in his seat with a knowing smirk. You tilted your head, bringing your own glass down to the table.

“I’m…confused. You’re aware of what, exactly?” 

“Why, that you’re in love with me, of course.” March stated.

Your eyes widened further. March caught the awkward movement of one of your hands. It trembled where it lay on the table. And when you spoke again, you did so shyly. Your voice was as soft as the pink in your cheeks.

“A-Am I?” You dared to ask. As though he hadn't known all these years.

March’s knowing grin spread wider. A dark, domineering color washed over his eyes. And he fixed you with an intimidating look. One that could so easily kill, had you been anyone else. Even in death, you felt your stomach twist in fluttery knots at the sight. You dropped your bashful gaze to the table, too nervous to look him in the eye. You were being avoidant, March knew. And your denial only heightened his desire to bait you.

“I’m not stupid, old friend. For how long?” He asked.

“Since…” You swallowed nervously, shrinking in on yourself, “...the moment I saw you.”

March’s expression remained unchanged. His cold gaze unblinking.

“All this time?”

Taking a brave chance at looking him in the eye, you glanced upward. And you were met with that empty, black gaze. Pools of ink, much like an abyss, stared intensely at you. You didn’t need to say anything further. His suspicions were confirmed then. March’s brows pressed together in thought.

“I…see.” He said, and he brought his hand to his chin, “Well, in all those years? You’ve proven yourself undoubtedly loyal to me. You see, so often, when Ms. Evers was around. Though, I did care for her. She had these…maddening tendencies. She’d express her apparent distaste for my darling wife. And she was incredibly passive. Selfishly so.”

As March spoke, his tone shifted. Infected with a venomous sting, and unbridled hatred. His other hand, resting on the table, clenched into a fist. 

“As you’re aware…Ms. Evers…she deceived me. In the name of love, was her excuse. Such a…disappointing betrayal.” March lingered on the statement for a moment longer. 

He snapped himself out of his spiteful rage. Blinking, March perked up. And his handsome grin returned.

“But, you! You’re quite the opposite of her, aren’t you? Wouldn’t you say? Never once have you said an unkind word. You’ve always been so polite to my dearest Mrs. March. And so generous to me! I can't recall you ever acting selfishly. And for that, I must tell you, I am profoundly grateful. It's so dreadfully difficult to find someone you can trust these days.”

“O-Of course!” You nodded, speaking in a gentle tone, “I guess…I just don’t really care if you-uh…if you never feel the same way I do. Being by your side, sir…getting to see you every day…”

Dreamily, you sighed. Like a dame in a daze of infatuation. The sweetest smile graced your blushing face.

“To see that smile of yours. And those eyes…” You sighed once more, “To hear your heavenly voice…that’s enough for me.”

You allowed a little…indulgence to slip through your confessions. Admiration and adoration for March permeated within your every word. Looking at you, he could practically see with his own eyes the unconditional love scorching with a passionate fury in your eyes. He might’ve even felt for himself your amorous desire. It exuded like pheromones from your admittedly fetching body.

He almost found it…endearing.

March blinked, clearing his throat. He tugged at his collar.

“Yes…I trust your devotion knows no earthly bounds, my dear.” He said, bringing his hands together before him, “Which is why, I’d like to present to you…that proposition! I’m nothing, if not a man of mercy. And if anyone is more than deserving of my mercy, it’s you, old friend.” March pointed to you with a ring-clad finger. And curiously, you tilted your head. “If you recall…before my dearest passed? She and I often had those dinners together. One night a month! They were…so very special to me. Truly a gift. The only thing that kept me balanced in this endless, monotonous purgatory of my own design. …Such a treat it was…to share at least…one night with my beloved.”

“It must’ve been nice, sir. Especially after she passed? To have her around more often? I know that meant everything to you.”

“It did.” March smiled fondly. And yet, as quick as it came, his adoring smile fell.

A broken-hearted melancholy plagued his ghostly features.

“Though…our time together has…diminished these days. She avoids me anymore. Hasn’t spoken a word to me in…weeks. Do you know that, at last night’s dinner? She didn’t say a goddamn thing! And again, she’s run off in search of…the pleasures of other men…”

March stared off, his dead-eyed gaze dropping to the table.

“It’s a….barren feeling. The most desolate ache I’ve ever endured…” He confessed.

Sympathetic, little goof. You looked at him then with an expression of sympathy, and opened your mouth to speak. March interrupted you before you could even begin. The very, last thing he wanted was your pity. At the flip of a dime, March perked up once more. He clapped his hands together loudly, suddenly appearing chipper. Beaming a wide, uncannily sweet grin.

“But nevermind all that, darling! What I’m proposing…is of a similar nature. For you, if you’d like! If it’d satisfy your deepest, perverted desires? Then, for one night a month…I, James Patrick March, owner of the hotel Cortez and America’s most infamous executioner…am all yours!”

Your eyes flew open wide. Like a precious, vulnerable creature under the gaze of a vicious predator. And your darling face…it burned an even brighter shade of red. March’s smile crooked up into a smirk. Addicting it was…this influence he seemed to have over you. Precious thing.

“Wait…wh-...what??” You waved your hands, “Oh, no, no, no! I couldn’t ever ask that of you, sir! Please, really! Don’t even worry about it! I’m not-...I don’t have to have you in that way to survive our purgatory together!”

The silence that overtook the room was deafening. In the background, the ticking of an old clock rang on. Along with the distant, alluring melody of a gramophone. John McCormack. Roses of Picardy. March stood up after some time. And slowly, steadily, he made his way to you at the other end of the dining table. He approached you wordlessly, eyes like obsidian focused entirely on your own. Analyzing and observing. Once close enough, he reached a large hand out. His palm fell to your shoulder, squeezing you in a firm grip. Leaning in, March spoke in a low, gravelly tone.

“Are you suggesting that you’re…ungrateful? You do realize this is…a gracious gesture…coming from a man of my status…” He didn’t break eye contact with you for even a second. March’s grip on your shoulder tightened, “...don’t you, little one?"

Despite the menacing nature of his actions, you let your eyes so shamelessly trail up and down his fancily-dressed form. And March saw all of it. Every movement of your eyes. The motion of your throat as you swallowed. The not-so-subtle way you leaned into his touch. How your thighs pressed together as if to relieve some…personal tension.

He raised a brow. Curious.

Your eyes sparkled innocently up at him. And again, you fluttered those delicate lashes. 

“I’m not ungrateful, sir! I’m so honored. I mean, obviously, I’m honored! But…” You scoffed, as if in disbelief, “But, me? I mean…come on… you ? With me??” With a soft huff of a laugh, you looked down at your lap, “But…I’m not…Mrs. March. I’m…nothin’ like her.”

March hummed a sound which suggested his pity for you.

“You’re right. You’re not…” He muttered in monotone, “You lack everything my dearest Elizabeth has. Her grace. Her ethereal elegance. She…is a creature of divinity.” March paused for a beat, “But you’ve no confidence nor class, I’m afraid. You’re more…a being of the mundane.” 

Again, a sinister loathing invaded his gaze. 

“But…unlike Ms. Evers…wretched, old bat…” He growled.

A wild grin spread across March’s lips, his teeth sinking into them. He brought his other hand to your chin, gently tilting it upward. Upon your face, he caught a broken-hearted frown.

“You, darling…” He hummed, “You have been blessed with certain…more pleasant qualities…”

His hand on your shoulder grazed a thumb across it. March let his eyes drop to your figure, as if to suggest something. And in that instant, you felt your lifeless heart skip a beat. As though your soul were springing to life again. Born anew.

“I…have?” You furrowed your brows, “So…what you’re sayin’ is…this is you settling? For someone lesser?”

March hummed again, considering your words. He pulled both hands from you.

“I prefer to think of it this way. In return for your undeniable devotion and loyalty throughout the tenure of our friendship. I’m giving you the opportunity to be with me. Consider it a reward, if you will. However you wish, my dear. One night a month, you can have me. Romantically. Physically. Intimately.” 

“Uh…okay…wow! That’s-...that’s…very kind of you, sir.” You stared up at March with those doting eyes. Biting your lip, you hesitated to ask, “So…wh-...when would we-uhm…when would we start?” A pause, and you nervously stammered over your words, “I-if I were to-uh…accept your…generous proposition?”

Immediate eagerness. Exactly the response he’d suspected from someone as smitten as yourself. March leered down at you smugly, his eyes falling half-lidded

Desperate, little thing, weren’t you?

“Tonight, if you’d prefer! Or…any night of your choosing. Whatever you want, darling. I insist. This courtesy is entirely yours.” He suggested.

A moment of contemplative quiet passed as you thought it over. And March watched you like a hawk, patiently waiting. Though, he already knew exactly what you were going to say. Even before you’d made a decision. The rosy color blooming darker in your cheeks ultimately gave you away.

“T-Tonight then? If you’ll…have me.” You stammered, “I’m honored, sir.”

March wanted to laugh. To boast that he could read you all too well. But calmly, he nodded.

“Very well!” 

He walked off then. March pulled at the fabric of his bowtie, tugging until it came completely undone. Following that motion, he shrugged his jacket off. Folding it neatly and setting it aside, he moved to unbutton the first, few buttons of his dress shirt. March disappeared into another room, out of sight. But you heard his familiar, smoky voice call out.

“Come!”

Hesitating, you stood from your seat at the table. And with tiny, careful steps, you followed the sound of March’s voice. In a vintage loveseat, you found him waiting. He sat with his chin in his hand, a cigarette burning between two fingers. His legs were spread open wide. And he patted his lap.

“Best not to waste anymore time, dear.”

“Wh-...What are we doin’?” You asked, looking down at your hands as you fiddled with them. 

Poor dear. You were standing in the room so timidly. Looking innocent, and so very delicate. Like a frightened, fluffy, little deer. Easy game, for a hunter like March.

“Isn’t this what you want?” He took a drag of his cigarette, his tone low and vibrating. March spread his legs open further, “Don’t be bashful, now, little one. I’ll only bite if you ask it of me.” 

You seemed hesitant. Fearful of making any sudden moves. But, with a facade of confidence March knew all too well you didn’t possess, you approached him. And you lowered yourself into his lap slowly, struggling to maintain eye contact. Eye contact was one of March’s many, gifted talents. And being such a shy dame, you could barely keep up. Once snug on his lap, you took time to admire March. Carefully, you trailed your hands down his chest. And you let your trembling fingers brush the fabrics of his perfectly tailored clothes. Clothes once deep-cleaned of blood-stains by the very maid he considered an abomination. 

Your hands moved upwards, first tracing over the bloody slit in his neck. Before cupping his cheeks for only a moment. You brushed a small thumb over one of his dimples. March smiled at you, hardly invested in what you were doing. Allowing you to have your fun. You touched March with careful, delicate movements. Handling him as if he were your most precious, priceless treasure. You looked at him as though you couldn’t fathom the reality before you. As though being with him like this was a foggy, distant dream. One you’d never ask to wake from.

Daringly, you leaned in. And you let your cool breath ghost over his lips.

“A-Are you sure about this, sir?” You asked, timid as ever.

March appeared unbothered and uncaring. Yet, admittedly, he felt somewhat curious of your next move. How far could a shy, innocent thing like you take this…intimate interaction? March assumed you’d clock out after a bit of heavy petting. With an equanimous smirk, he nodded.

“Positively certain.” He muttered, “And please, while we’re together like this, darling? Do call me James. You can forgo the formalities.” 

You blinked, amazed. Looking into his eyes with all the love and adulation in the ever-expanding cosmos. Marveling in his presence. Your nose brushed his, and you leaned even further in.

And you kissed him.

It was a clumsy, graceless kiss at first. But as you continued, you found your confidence. A heated flow enveloped your every movement. And for the first, few kisses, March didn’t reciprocate. He kept a hand at the armrest of the loveseat. His other occupied with that cigarette. He didn’t care to touch you yet. But as your kisses drew him in deeper, as you mewled little noises into his lips…March found himself giving in. One of his large hands found your hips, squeezing there first. Before moving to wrap his arm around your back. He pulled you in close. And you ran your hands up through his hair. Freeing those irresistible curls of his.

Finally, at long last, he kissed you back. And in that instant, you drank in the motions of a man far more cultivated and refined than you could ever hope to be. In a thousand lifetimes, you could never live up to his status. And yet, he kissed you anyway. If you could taste, his lips would’ve tasted of champagne and nicotine.

“Wow-” You breathlessly gasped into his lips.

A flash of fire burned in his lidded eyes, and he peered up at you. March let out a soft, vibrating chuckle. 

“Eager are we, darling?”

“Uh…” Poor, little goof. Still so lost in your lovestruck daze, “I just-”

The urge to kiss March again proved far too much for you to resist. You leaned in again, capturing his skilled lips in another flurry of deep kisses. And when you pulled back, you shook your head. For a moment, you simply stared at March. Taking in his ghostly features. Admiring his handsome face, his black eyes, the curls of his hair.

“Thank you, si-uhm…James. Thank you. I…never imagined…you’d ever let me touch you. Let alone k-uhm…kiss you like this…”

He chuckled again, humming a deep noise in his chest. The sound sent a spark of something gratifying straight to your core.

“I told you, didn’t I? I am, after all, a man of mercy…”

You brought a hand up to his cheek, stroking it gently with soft fingers. March noticed that, whenever you touched him, you did so as if he were a timeless lover. 

“You most certainly are…” Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his forehead, “...so gracious.”

March hadn’t expected you to wiggle backwards. And where did you think you were going? Were you giving up already? Giving into your paranoid worries? You let yourself sink off his lap and onto your knees. Scooting your way across the carpet and in between his legs, you gazed up at March with those lovely, doe eyes.

“You know…I’d do anything for you, don’t you James?” You trailed your hands up to his trousers, your fingers fiddling with the buttons, “...is this alright?”

To say he was caught off guard by your boldness, would be one hell of an understatement. His innocent, pure-of-heart, little goof? Submitting to him on their knees so easily like this? How had he never suspected this of you? March’s empty eyes widened, watching you from above with a dark, predatory gaze.

“If it’s what you so desire, then…do continue. I’m not going to stop you. This is your night, little one. Don’t you remember?”

You stared at him for a moment longer, uncertain of yourself. Before finally working the buttons of his trousers open. Bringing a small hand through the slit in the fabric, you felt around. And your fingers brushed across-

An adorable gasp escaped your lips.

You…hadn’t expected him to be hard. If the surprised, embarrassed look on your face was anything to go by. Because surely, the James Patrick March himself couldn’t possibly be aroused over someone as mundane as you. Could he?

Sucking in a slow breath, you continued. Your fingers snuck their way through the softness of his undergarments. A bit of movement, and you pulled his thick cock free. At the sight of the twitching length, those sparkling eyes of yours lit up brightly. Beaming, as if mesmerized. You were practically drooling over his cock. And you’d barely touched it at all.

March’s breath hitched from above. He watched you attentively, focused on the movement of your small hand. It stroked and squeezed around the thickness of him. Somewhat skillfully, he’d have to admit. Almost as though you knew exactly what you were doing. How is it that here, touching him intimately, you weren’t the least bit clumsy?

You bravely tilted your head upward, meeting his darkening gaze.

“You said…I could do whatever I wanted?” You asked. Your tone had fallen considerably lower. It sounded seductive, even, “May I sing your praises, James?” 

March had never heard you speak in that tone before. He hadn't realized you were even capable.

Wordlessly, he nodded. You gave a few more firm strokes of his cock, leaning in to kiss the tip gently. And as the soft wetness of your lips brushed it, you hummed. Reveling in every second you had March like this. Even in such a filthy, perverted position. With the head of his leaking cock at your lips. Your eyes glimmered, acting as windows. And your complete devotion for him shined through like the light of the sun. Holding eye contact (when did you get so good at that?), you generously peppered his cock in mouthy, wet kisses.

“Just let me worship you, James…” You sighed, dragging your free hand down one of his thighs. Your nails drew lines into the fabric, “Let me appreciate you. That’s…really the only thing I could ever ask for.”

He kept watching you, occasionally taking long drags from his cigarette. March found himself in awe of your boldness and honesty. Though, if there was one thing he knew about you for certain. You were always honest with him. Turning your attention to his aching cock, you pushed the head past your lips. You lapped up the bead of precum leaking from the tip, mewling in pure delight. Suckling for a few beats too short, you pulled away by an inch.

“You…are the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen. Did you know that, James? Have I ever told you? I could stare at you all day. Every day. Forever, if you let me. You’ve got the most stunning, beautiful, brown eyes…”

You paused in the midst of your praises to push the tip of his cock past your lips again. Letting your tongue dance around it, you stroked the remaining length with your hand. And just when he thought you might give him more, you pulled away.

“You can’t imagine how thrilling it is to have those ferocious eyes looking down on me right now. Oh, and I absolutely adore your smile. How full your lips are. Kissing them was like a gift of temptation, straight from the depths of hell. And I am in no way deserving of such a thing…”

March was steadily beginning to lose his composure. That calm, unbothered demeanor of his teetered on the edge. Threatening to fall with every cutesy noise you made, and every flick of your tongue. With each confession of your deepest admirations, he felt himself breaking. March knew you loved him. He knew you found purpose in serving him. And yet, somehow, he hadn’t been aware of the extent at which your worship of him ran. He took another drag of his cigarette. March’s free hand found your hair, and his oversized palm settled there. He didn’t yet tug, but merely braced himself.

“No modern man dresses nearly as elegantly as you do. Those men at those high-class fashion shows? The ones they have here? They can’t even begin to compare. It’s almost intimidating…how refined and elegant you truly are.”

You halted your confessions, only to take the entire length of his twitching cock into your mouth. Moaning around it, you sucked hard. Letting your tongue drag along the underside, across pulsing veins. You pulled off all over again. And March’s grip in your hair tightened only slightly. You continued to stroke his cock, spreading the wetness your tongue left behind.

“You’re so intimidating. So good at striking fear into those around you. But, god…it only makes me more attracted to you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough of you…”

Breaking eye contact, you focused on his cock. You stopped to admire the heavy weight of him on your tongue. And you had the nerve to giggle with the innocence of a dame in church. March remained speechless. He stared you down as you took his full length into your mouth again. Your praises fell short for a bit. Instead, you were fixated on pleasuring him with more enthusiasm. Your movements slowly grew rapid. But as you edged him further, you popped off. You nuzzled his soaked, aching cock with your cheek. And once more, you giggled. It was infuriating.

“I wish you could hear your voice. Fuck…your voice. Your accent. It’s to die for!” The smile you gave him radiated purity, and you bit your swollen lip between your teeth, “You’re to die for. Y’know? I’d die for you. Over and over again.”

Dragging your tongue up and down his cock, you peppered it in more, loving kisses. And you fluttered those pretty lashes.

“As many times as you wanted me to. If I could die by your hands, James, I would. If it’d make you happy? If cutting my throat and watching the life drain from my eyes would satisfy you…”

March’s grip in your hair tightened even further, clenching around your soft locks. 

Who knew his little goof could be such a shameless sycophant? Groveling over his deviant passions.

He was growing immensly impatient. You’d carried on this little charade of praises for far too long. When you lowered your mouth over his cock, March guided you. With the rough hold he had on your head, he forced you down. The action caught you by surprise. As the tip of his cock pressed into the back of your throat, you gagged, squeezing around the head. And a pleased grunt erupted off March’s tongue, cigarette smoke rising from his lips. Reaching over the arm of the loveseat, he put the cigarette out in an ashtray. And while doing so, March kept his half-lidded eyes, dark as burning coals, on you. His throbbing length filled your throat, and you took all of it. Every inch. You squeezed his thigh hard with a hand, letting your fingernails dig into the fabric of his trousers. As you clawed at his thigh for purchase, a wicked grin spread across his face. Salty tears stung your pretty eyes. They poured down your flushed cheeks completely out of your control. An embarrassing display. March’s breathing picked up in pace. He jerked you backwards, pulling you off his cock by your hair. Generously, he allowed you a moment to catch your breath. Not that you needed it, really. Being dead and all. Smirking down at you, he sank his teeth into his lip. And upon his pale cheeks, you caught the slightest hint of a pink hue.

You’d never once seen March blush on account of something you did.

“Y-You were…you were saying, darling?” March, usually so well spoken, stumbled over his words.

With a smile, you returned to your previous motions. Dragging your tongue lazily up and down his cock, you stroked him with a hand.

“U-Uhm…” That timid nature of yours returned. Perhaps on account of his manhandling? But you fought to shake it off, “Y’know somethin’ else I love about you, James? That look in your eye. I can’t even describe it. When you’re feelin’ bloodthirsty? When you’re thinkin’ about unleashin’ hell? You look divine like that.”

His gaze turned colder then. March’s fingers dug fingernails further into your skull. And the gesture was near painful. He didn’t seem to care, even when you hissed in response to the sting. Your puffy lips and mouth were drenched in drool. And your hair! His rough handling left it frazzled and wild. You looked an absolute mess of yourself. And in any other circumstance, March would’ve found it repulsive. At this moment, however…

“That…storm in your eyes. The passion that rages on once you’ve taken the life of another. There’s somethin’ so…irresistible about it. Makes me wish I could’ve dropped on my knees and worshiped you like this sooner.” You covered his cock in those mouthy, sloppy kisses, “I just want to submit myself to you, James. Let you have all of me.”

“Really now? Is that how you feel, little one? Truly? ” He spoke suddenly, catching you by surprise.

His fingers curled harshly into your hair, and he pulled you back in a rough, swift motion.

“Enough of this.” March said, “I realize, I said before, this was your night. And you should be the one calling the shots, with me at your leniency. However, since you seem to want my attention so desperately, darling. You’re going to listen to me now.”

You stared up at him with a wide-eyed, sinless gaze. And you didn't dare to say a single word. Good then.

“On the floor. And strip yourself bare for me, would you?” He commanded.

You let yourself fall backwards. And with the motion, March’s grip in your hair loosened. He let go, keeping his eyes on you, as you scooted back along the carpeted floor. The rough surface burned the skin of your elbows. But in death, it didn’t matter. Come tomorrow, you'd be left with not a single mark. Zero evidence of the night's events. Hastily, you shed your clothes. Your fingers trembled with every movement. March followed, standing slowly from his seat. He watched as you laid yourself naked and bare before him. And he pulled down his suspenders. His pants followed, leaving him in those soft undergarments. March hadn’t yet removed his dress shirt, and he didn’t bother to now.

He dropped to his knees on the floor, crawling over you with an animalistic gaze in his eyes. Immediately upon reaching you, he kissed you deeply. Drinking down every surprised noise you made in response. Your noises. Those mewls and squeals. He wanted to hear more. He had to hear more.

March wasn’t the fondest of missionary. But that devotion, that love, that worship bleeding profusely from your eyes. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of it. March found he needed to look at you. To watch you. His hands trailed down your body, touching you with precise grace. Each touch started with a delicate brush of his fingertips, steadily growing rougher. And there you were, pleasured by the hands of a murderer with almost a hundred years of practice behind him.

As he looked you over with those dark eyes, he could see you slipping so easily into madness. Submitting to him, an eternal ghost of pure malevolence.

And you were pushed even further over the brink once March buried two, long fingers in your cunt. All without a single warning. No preparation. He shoved his digits deep, watching you with a devious smirk. You breathlessly moaned, and your slick walls squeezed around his fingers. March knew every angle at which to twist and press his digits. Only to spur more of those lovely noises out of you.

His long, dexterous fingers pulled themselves from your cunt, and you longed for more. You ached for him, whining pitiful, little protests. And your desperate desire was soon satiated.

In one, rough motion, March forced his cock through your folds. He buried himself deep in a single thrust, growling a rough noise in response to your screams. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him. And you pulled March closer, inching him impossibly deeper.

He hadn’t been this…intimate with another person in…what felt like a millenia. Having his cock buried to the hilt in the tight plush of your cunt…it was enough to make him lose it. March had to take a moment to gather himself. Before he began harshly drilling you into the floor. And the rug underneath you burned painfully against your skin. Though, in this position, you couldn’t help but find the sensation extremely gratifying.

Your screams were all the encouragement he needed. And you begged him to fuck you harder. To vent all his pent up anger and fury using your fragile body as his aid. March gazed down at you, his eyes carrying a near sinister edge. The pace at which he fucked you grew vigorous and unrelenting. A jolt of pleasure shot through your core suddenly, as March pressed his deft fingers to your clit. Rubbing slick, generous circles against the sensitive bud, he soaked in the sight of you falling apart underneath him. Your precious moans were like music to his ears.  March cooed quiet praises in a rugged voice, encouraging you to give in. To succumb to the sweet allure of release. He knew you needed it desperately. All the pent up desire you'd carried for him for so long must have felt torturous. A man of mercy, he was. He couldn't allow you to suffer like that any longer. Not after all you'd done for him. After having been so loyal.

He felt your release, as it hit you like a rushing wave. Your walls constricted around his cock in a tight pull, and your entire body trembled. Those delightful screams of yours were more than likely heard across every floor of the hotel. But March's mind was much too hazy with pleasure to care. He wanted the world to hear you. For you to let them all know just who it was you'd submitted yourself to entirely. And as you came down from your high, sobbing soft cries. You met his eyes. Tears rained down your cheeks, and you shivered under his cold gaze. How vulnerable you looked... 

One of March’s large, veiny hands found your neck. He squeezed with so much strength that, had you been alive; he easily would’ve cut off your circulation. However, in death, the ache that came with asphyxiation felt like euphoria. Under the pressure of his fingers and hands, you were ascending to the stars. Or, rather…considering you were getting mercilessly fucked by a devilish being such as March? Perhaps a more accurate comparison would be: March was dragging you violently down to an all too pleasurable circle of hell itself.

His cock hit your cervix with a few more, harsh thrusts of his hips. And you were left to suffer the ache of overstimulation. As he squeezed your neck hard enough to leave bruises, and tight enough to kill any living person. March reached his peak. A thick warmth burst from his cock, overflowing you from deep inside. His release filled you up until it leaked from your folds. Purity and innocence sullied. You were his little goof now.

You probably expected March to pull out, now that you received exactly what you wanted. Surely, March would move away from you. Only to clean up, redress himself, and go about his business. Keeping his distance until the next month came. And…he thought he’d have done the same. March didn’t care for you on a deep level of any kind. A loyal dog. That’s all you were. A follower. Indeed. A naive, not-so-innocent, little goof. Who also, just so happened to be completely and utterly in love with him. 

And March was not at all enchanted by your obsessive devotion. Why would he be? There was only one woman for him. His dearest wife. His Elizabeth. Mrs. March. If anything, you were simply a means of distraction. Easy company in light of his most lonesome days. His old friend. You weren’t graceful. You weren’t classy. You were, at your core, his polar opposite. Of course. Yes. In the euphoric haze of post-orgasmic bliss, he'd almost forgotten. 

But even so…

March found he couldn’t pull himself from you. For a few moments longer, he kept his softening cock buried inside your slick walls. There he rested, on his knees, staring down at you from above. His gaze was much less blackened. Instead, replaced with a warm brown. Leaning forward, March buried his flushed face in your shoulder. He nibbled the gentle skin of your collarbone, breathing out his exhaustion.

He chuckled a hushed, but maniacal noise. The vibrations of which tickled your bruised skin. Not to worry, those bruises wouldn’t be there tomorrow. Some possessive part of him wished they would be, though. March raised his head up, looking down into your eyes with a soft, more than satisfied smirk. The curls of his hair fell even more loose upon his head. And once more, he leaned in, only to brush his nose against yours.

“You know…” He mumbled in a croaky whisper. You felt him slowly, gently thrust his hips forward, “...the night is still young, little one. And there’s so much more the two of us could do together…should you be interested...” 

His lips met yours in a kiss far too intimate for a casual session of coitus. And you kissed him nervously back, as though you weren’t allowed to indulge yourself. That familiar sense of naivety and purity claimed you all over again. And for whatever reason, it made March want to kiss you more. To envelop you entirely, all his own. His old friend. His little goof. Poor, not-so-innocent sap.

Maybe he was...a little fond of you.

Only a little.

#james patrick march x reader #james patrick march x y/n #james patrick march x you #jpm x reader #jpm x y/n #jpm x you #smut #american horror story #ahs

[whoreofdilfs]

I'm certain that James Patrick March and I will be getting to know each other well and will be close if I ever meet him.

#james patrick march x reader #james patrick march angst #james patrick march #james march #james march x reader #james patrick march x you #ahs cast #ahs fanfic #ahs hotel #hotel #hotel cortez #evan peters #evan peters #evam peters #evan peter

[maeriavizsendingjpmdose]

This is what being Mrs. March feels like.

#maeriavizsendingjpmdose #american horror story #evan peters #ahs #ahs fandom #ahs hotel #james patrick march #james march #mr march #jpm #evan thomas peters #james patrick march x you

[taintandviolent]

deflowering ; James March x virgin!Reader

{requested by anonymous} summary: 7k words! after a little dancing, more than a little champagne, you decide to take James March up on his offer of going up to one of the new rooms of the Hotel Cortez, to break them in, as it were. Little does he know, he's about to break you in, too. w a r n i n g s: virgin!reader (adult), mentions of alcohol, rough sex, explicit descriptions, canon divergence, rough sex, thigh riding, cunnilingus, blowjobs, aggression, use of 'daddy', dom themes.

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @kaissweetlamb / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @petersevans / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake/ @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @evanpetersfansblog / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @nova-kayne67 / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny

It was the twenty-third of August, 1926, and you had just finished your second glass of champagne in the Hotel Cortez. Usually, you never drank this much, but it was a celebration after all. Some fellow named James Patrick March had finally completed the arduous construction of his new hotel and tonight was the opening night. Crowds had flocked to the entrance, dressed to the nines and all eagerly craning their necks for a peek at the glamorous inside. Those who weren’t explicitly invited were turned away by the doorman in his starched uniform.

You, of course — you’d been invited by your friend’s friend’s friend and when you showed up in a beaded, green dress and the mink stole your mother had given you four birthdays ago, you waltzed right through those doors without a single question. You looked like you belonged here as much as the group of actresses that walked in before you. The moment you entered, the hotel stole a gasp from your lips, dazzling you with its prestige and innovation.

It had been toted as “an overly ambitious project” and you could certainly attest to that. Mr. March, whomever he was, had written a particular aesthetic into the design of his hotel and from the hexagonal patterned carpets to the ornately panelled gold walls, everything fit the opulent theme. The Blue Parrot Lounge was a name you’d heard whispered several times, waiters coming down the curved staircases with trays full of delicate champagne flutes. You learned shortly after that the bar was on the second floor and overlooked the entire hotel lobby.

But downstairs in that lobby, a band was set up, their instruments exhaling the liveliest melody you’d heard in ages. Easily, they persuaded the masses to kick their heels up. The grand chandelier above your head twinkled like your own personal galaxy, shimmering every time you moved. In fact, everything twinkled. You felt ebullient, as light as a cloud, and didn’t have a care in the world.

There had been a brief pause where Mr. March welcomed everyone to his Hotel in his dangerously cordial way, making a show of popping champagne. Everyone applauded, congratulated and then quickly dispersed, eager to return to the complementary libations. You’d eagerly taken to the dance floor and quickly found a partner in a jazzy white suit. He had blonde hair, sharp, chiseled features and deep green eyes - handsome enough. You two paired alright, enjoying each other’s lively moves.

He’d clearly been drinking more than you, judging by the way he slurred his compliments to you, dabbing nervously at the sheen of sweat that decorated his forehead. After an hour or so of dancing, your feet were sore and your curious nature had wrapped its tendrils around your throat, ordering you to investigate the rest of the hotel.

A server held another glittering tray of champagne high above everyone’s heads, and you snatched one as he passed you, hurriedly bringing it to your mouth. The effervescent liquid tickled the bow of your lips, the tiny bubbles popping as you sucked in a delicate mouthful. You dabbed at the corner of your mouth with your middle finger, trying not to gulp too loud.

As the song changed, the band racing into another upbeat melody, you swung your shoulder around, prepared to sink deeper into the hallways. Instead, you nearly collided with a broad shoulder. “Oooh! ‘Pardon me!”

“Mm.”

You recognised him right away. In the wicked and honest parts of your brain, you were thrilled that, of all people, you’d bumped into him. During his speech, all the women were staring with illicit gazes and hungry tongues. You’d mapped the direction of their eyes as they scanned along his face, and down his body as they openly and dissolutely lusted after him. The audible whispers that scattered the room when he cracked open the champagne, allowing the fizzy stream to spray into his mouth would’ve been laughable if you hadn’t been one of the whisperers.

He seemed slightly less personable now, almost curt in nature. Something about the dismissive way he’d flashed his brows at you as if he was annoyed sparked a fire in your curiosity. He was too handsome to let slip through your fingers, and surely, there must be a reason for his clipped response. You gulped down a mouthful and cleared your throat.

“Say, aren’t you Mr. March?” You asked coyly, knowing full well who he was.

He stopped then, like he’d been challenged to a duel, and with a slight bow, turned gracefully on his toes. To him, it was a challenge. You hadn’t run off with your tail between your legs, offended by his sternness, and that was a challenge for conversation, for flirtations and perhaps… indulging himself.

“Indeed I am. Enjoying yourself?” He eyed the half-empty glass in your tiny little hand, taking note that it clearly wasn’t your first.

“Oh, very much so. This is a ssswell party, Mr. March.”

“Splendid! And please,” He took your hand in his, pressing his lips against your knuckles. “Call me James.”

You cooed in acknowledgment, watching him from the rim of your glass. He lingered for a little too long and you would’ve bet your last penny that you saw his nostrils flare slightly as he inhaled a deep breath of your scent. After a moment, James straightened up, keeping a firm grip on your hand.

He had indeed; you were sweet, like a delicate pastry with the slightest hint of fruitiness underneath. There were notes of a perfume, floral, something moderately expensive — surely, something you’d saved up all your pocket change for. The way your eyes glimmered awoke a deep hunger within his core. He’d play with this.

“Tell me, my dear. Can you dance?” He asked.

The moment you said you could, he’d wrapped your slender arm around his forearm, holding onto it tightly as he towed you back towards the dance floor. Thank god your mother had insisted you learn how to dance properly. And thank heavens your friend, whom Mother detested, taught you how to dance improperly. Mother had always said these new trend dances were for immoral and loose women, but when James March insisted you dance the Charleston with him, you’d never been gladder for immorality in your life.

Keeping a tight hold on your hand, he swung you out into the clearing. With his fee hand, he made a quick gesture to the band. They responded by starting up the familiar melody, and James stepped to your side, lifting his brows in a silent confirmation that you were as ready as you looked. You gave him a short nod, and you both took one step backwards, beginning the shuffling motions.

His feet moved quick to the rhythm; behind and in front of each other, his heels kicking out to the side. All things considered, you made a worthy partner, keeping up with his lively, bobbing movements. Your hands were at your waist, fingers splayed out, swishing from side to side. You both leaned forward in unison and sent your right heels up into the air. The moment you straightened up again was when you realised that a small crowd had gathered in the lobby of the Hotel Cortez and all of their eyes were on the two of you. Everyone was watching as you two masterfully stepped the Charleston and you felt like a celebrity, a performer with the most handsome partner.

There was one woman in particular, a gorgeous brunette gal, who looked on with narrowed eyes. James stepped in front of your line of sight, flashing a villainously personable smile, and spun you back to his side. Though he wouldn’t dare voice it, the beginning twitches of an erection had his cock stirring in his pants. You were delectable and lively, something he’d take great pleasure in snatching away from you. All the more arousing that she hasn’t the slightest clue….

As the song ended, you couldn’t help but dissolve into a fit of giddy laughter, falling backwards into his chest. You couldn’t be sure, but as his arms enclosed around you, you thought you heard a syrupy laugh deep in his throat. Both of you were tuckered out, chests heaving, a misting of sweat covering your décolleté and his forehead. After a moment in his strong arms — ooooh, his arms — he brought a handkerchief from a pocket, dabbing his forehead gently. Modest applause peppered the crowd, along with a few glad compliments.

“I don’t mean offence by this, but…” You swallowed, wetting your throat. “I didn’t think you could dance like that!”

“I’m full of surprises.” He answered.

James swooped around you, circling you predatorily. His fingers ghosted over the back of your neck, sending a convulsive shiver down your spine.

You two locked eyes then, staring wordlessly. Both of you unable to ignore the need, the pulling draw, the hunger to touch each other. It was the sort of gaze that started rumours. His tongue scraped along the roof of his mouth, longing to taste the churning arousal between your legs. He knew it was there, told plainly by the way you fiddled with the hem of your neckline, nervously, trying to placate your own licentious thoughts.

“Beautiful hotel, really.” You finally whispered.

“Allow me to show you the best room in the house.” His eyes flashed to yours, sensing the apprehension. You rolled your shoulders inward, prepped to decline as politely as you could.

“Oh now, now… no need to be shy. I’m a gentleman first and foremost.”

“I don’t know if your lady friend will enjoy that…” You retorted.

“You are the only lady in my company.” He assured.

You gazed behind him one more time and met eyes with her — an action you’d immediately regretted. Her gaze was as comforting as a jail cell, and her full lips were pulled into a tight, frustrated line that held back a myriad of hatred. You opened your mouth to speak, but a forefinger was pressed hurriedly into your cupids bow, shushing you quickly. He looked down at you, brows furrowed in disapproval.

“Now, now. Shh. I’d hate to have to cut out your tongue, my dear. I had plans for it later.”

Your brows pulled together, eyes displaying nothing but sheer confusion. What on Earth did he mean by that? Either of those things? You were too afraid to broach the question, partly in fear that the answer would’ve frightened you, or worse, aroused you.

As though he read your mind, heard your innermost thoughts, he added quickly: “If you want to find out what… well, you’ll have to follow me first, my dear. Shall you?”

He extended his hand to you, palm up.

Against your better judgement and without thinking a second more about the repercussions, you took it and managed to squeak: “To the moon, James.”

When you glanced over his shoulder a final time, that woman watched you as he led you away, that tumultuous anger burning in her eyes. Something about her piercing gaze sent a shiver down your spine. She looked innocent enough, but underneath the done-up exterior, there was a cruelness, a hostility that you wanted nothing to do with. You hurried your steps, pinning yourself closer to James.

The journey took longer than you expected as every few moments, he was stopped by a hotel guest and congratulated. Everyone from stuffy elderly couples to actors you recognised from pictures all wanted to shake hands with the man that had created “the hotel of the century”. You hung on his arm, politely silent, offering agreeing nods and kind smiles when they’d look at you. They must’ve assumed, of course, that you two were an item, and for that brief, fleeting moment, you were thrilled by the idea.

Once he’d pushed open the door, allowing room for you to walk in, you realised that the room he’d led you into was the room he’d cracked the champagne in — except it had been expertly cleaned within a few hours. There were no crowds, no remnants, no sounds aside from a pair of breaths; yours and his. Although, if you listened hard enough, you thought you heard the dull, muted music from below. It sounded hazy and slower up here in this room.

The lock clicked into place and James had you in his arms, his face buried in your neck, his pencil-thin moustache tickling the sensitive flesh under your jaw. He whispered seductive words of veneration into the nape of your neck, praising your appearance between breaths and tastes of your salty flesh.

“Forgive my eagerness,” he whispered into your ear, before nipping at your skin. “I find you… irresistible.”

Delighted by the sensations, your lids fluttered. You extended your neck to him, allowing more. He kissed your neck over and over again and began sucking too hard in certain spots. You let out the tiniest little hums of discomfort, trying to stretch away from him then. However, somewhere deep in your core, you craved that pain, the burn of his suckling kisses.

“I want you to kiss me.” He declared, finally pulling away to gaze upon your face, like he was studying it. “Kiss me, but don’t hold back. I want to feel your passion.”

You nodded quickly, feigning all the courage in the world. Nervous? Who, me? Never! Your lips clashed together as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself as close to him as you could. His mouth parted, allowing his tongue out to swirl around yours, and you could taste the champagne that lingered on it like a fading memory. He deepened the kiss, moving further into your mouth and all you could do was moan into his. Silly girl, he must’ve thought.

His hand left your side, trailing further down. With a cruel tug, James yanked your stocking from its front clip, tearing a generous hole in the nylon, then repeated the process with the other. You broke the kiss to watch this fiery display of arousal in awe, feeling a new, unfamiliar fire in your stomach. You’d been aroused before — hell, even pleasured yourself shyly under the sheets… but the hunger. The hunger that clawed at your insides with reckless abandon was speaking in a foreign tongue… but it was one that you wanted to translate into physicality.

“Oooh, easy tiger…”

His fingers splayed out over your now bare thighs, exploring the smooth skin ravenously. As he neared your centre slit, he snarled in response — whether intentionally responding to the animalistic nickname you’d given him, or because he’d felt the slippery nectar dripping from between your legs, you couldn’t know. You thought it might be the latter. You hoped it was.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you to wobble forward with want. He made a beeline to the nearby alcohol cart that had been arranged near the door and poured amber liquid into one of the glasses and golden champagne into another. He brought the darker coloured one to his lips.

“Mmm…” He growled as he swallowed, locking eyes with you, walking confidently towards the nearby chair. Though his head was turned away from his destination, he didn’t stumble, just gracefully sunk down into the chaise lounge without spilling a drop of his precious liquor.

You were in awe of this man’s finesse, of his charm, and the adoration for him displayed all over your cheeks. You didn’t need to bring out your compact to know that the flush had travelled down your neck, and your pretty little doe-eyes were as wide as saucers. He set the glass of champagne down on a nearby end table, presumably where it would stay until you reached for it.

“What’s underneath that ravishing dress, hm?” He asked. You gathered your lips to one side in a coy expression.

“Let’s see,” you tittered. "My bra and my knickers. And…. A pair of torn stockings and shoes, if you’re a specifics kinda’ guy…” You knew he was.

He waited.

You raised your brows, cocking your head to the side in affirmation — that was all. You were a woman of style after all. In this outfit? You wouldn’t be caught dead in a corset or a slip. Besides, corsets were for stuffy old broads nowadays. Everyone was wearing bras.

“Take it all off. Everything but the dress.”

Surely, the dress would be the first thing to go? It was an odd request, even for your virgin experience. You’d heard stories of men and their covetous desires. The idea of keeping the biggest article of clothing on seemed unorthodox, but you weren’t about to question his demands.

Obediently, you bent down and undid the buckles of your shoes, stepping out of them carefully. With a shy bat of your lashes, you turned away from him, shimmying and shrugging out of the straps of your dress until they fell into the crooks of your arms. Reaching around behind your back, you unlatched the satin bra, letting your supple breasts spring free of the compression.

Your heart pounded as you bent down again to slide the satin underwear over the curve of your ass and down your equally satiny thighs, giving the man behind you the tiniest previews of what was to come. Facing him again, you held your dress at your chest, carefully sliding the straps back up your arms one by one.

With a drink in one hand, the other stretched over the back of the loveseat and a delightedly smug expression, James watched your undergarments fall to the floor piece by piece. His cock throbbed in his pants, the thick fabric doing a damned good job at keeping the beast at bay. Free of everything, your dress hung a little different now, and his black eyes were aflame with the realisation. You swayed back and forth, the strands of sequins brushing lightly against your thighs.

As you bent down one final time, reaching for the nylons, came his voice. “Leave those.”

After a small sip, he pat his thigh twice with his free hand; the sound of his palm snapping against the taut fabric atop his thigh echoed in the room. For a brief, insecure second, you were frozen. A deer in the headlights. Except the headlights weren’t headlights, they were the eyes of the hungriest tiger you’d ever seen and you’d already succumbed to your fate the moment he locked the door.

“Come to daddy.”

You shuddered in response, your tummy doing backflips like an acrobat in a circus act. His words held such command and purpose, you had no choice but to saunter over to him, swaying your hips a little more than you usually did. He seemed to enjoy that; a tiny smirk played out over his mouth.You pressed your knees against his, struggling to not come undone at the contact. With a deep breath, you manoeuvred yourself in between his parted legs.

“Good…” He replied. “Atop my thigh, my pet.”

With your flesh turning a deep shade of red, you walked over his thigh, resting one knee on the edge of the cushion. You felt the air on your cunt, the chill of the room touching the wetness and making it tingle. You looked down at his groin. The fabric was pulled taut. You could make out the faintest outline of a swelling cock underneath —

You snapped your attention back to him, embarrassed. He downed the rest of his drink, set it carelessly on the table next to your still-full champagne and lifted his hand to your legs. The pad of his middle finger caressed the back of your knee, sending a shockwave through your entire body. No man had ever touched you like that, the sensation was erotic and overwhelming to your core. Inch by inch, his fingers trailed higher.

You reached for the champagne, and despite the sting in your nose, you downed the entire glass, setting it back on the small table.

“Lower.” He commanded, amused.

You obeyed, bending your knees.

“Lower.” He repeated.

He’d lined it up perfectly; James pressed that same finger into your slit as you lowered, wiggling it further in, then flicking it up to your clit. You let out a shrill mewl. Your knees nearly buckled as he circled the bundle of nerves, bringing the sensitivity higher. You squeezed your eyes shut as hot, salty tears bit at the corners. Your muscles had begun to quiver, overwhelmed by the strain of hovering over his thigh. His skilful fingers manipulated your cunt, simply playing with your wetness.

James abruptly yanked you all the way down, forcing you into a straddle. Your cunt was spread, pressed tight against his thigh and you needed no instruction on what to do next.

“Ooooh,” he growled, watching your hips as they ground your weeping cunt against the expensive fabric of his suit pants. “Good girl. Your desire is intoxicating… show me how much you want me…. yes.”

James chuckled, knowingly. Despite your best effort in trying to suppress your moans, he saw through the act. The skin of your neck had flushed red. Your soft jaw hung slack, tiny little moans floating out every time he touched you. Your sweet little eyes rolled back into your head every time he so much as flexed his thigh muscle. He knew the effect he had on you. Every slight movement from him ground against your cunt, sending shuddering waves of heat into your core.

“I said,” he started, gripping your jaw hard between his thumb and pointer finger. “Show me how much you want it, my dear.”

You winced, but allowed instinct to kick in. You began bobbing up and down on his thigh, whimpering as the wet spot on the fabric spread. The slick glistened on the fibres as you ground back and forth. Eventually, the friction of dry against wet lessened, and you found a rhythm, bouncing. His leg bumped into your sensitive, aching clit over and over again.

As you rode his thigh, James gripped your dress at the shoulders, kissing up along the curves of your arm. There was a warmth on your skin, a tugging, though you were too deep in the sensations to pull away. A cacophony of ticking began; tiny beads scattered across the floor, bouncing and dancing into crevices where they’d never be found again.

When you finally glanced down, a look of shock painted across your features. Your dress had been ripped at the seams, the delicately beaded fabric now hanging limply at your hips in a mass. James looked on, adoringly, his hungry, inky eyes dancing over your exposed breasts, and the way your nipples had hardened in the slightly colder air.

“What’s wrong, my dear? Are you frightened?” He asked. The lilt in his question was too revealing, but alas, who was he to deny the delicious aroma of fear?

“Who me?” You laughed breathily, like a fool. Sweat pooled in the hollows of your collarbone. No time like the present, you thought. You’d reached the point of no return, and surely if you didn’t say something now, he’d find out when he took you. “Oh, no, it’s just that… I’ve never been with a man is all.”

The realisation swept across his face, the expression telling all the tales of how he felt about being the first man to have a woman. “Aaahhh…. And do you…. wish to be…?”

“With you?” You swatted the air dismissively. “More than anything.”

“Brave. Brave girl.” With that, he scooped you up in his strong arms, and got up from the chair. You wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you effortlessly to the table. The journey was short, and before you knew it, your bare back was laid on cool wood. Your legs hung off the edge, and with one strong yank, James pulled the tattered dress from your hips, tossing it heedlessly behind him.

“Knees up — heels on the table.” He then ordered, sternly. Pulling your knees towards your chest, you adjusted yourself on the table and swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable. Short of hearing the snap of latex gloves, you were left feeling like you were about to be examined by a doctor.

James disappeared from your view then, sinking down below the edge of the table. With nothing to look at, you gazed up at the ceiling with wide eyes, anticipating the next move. When it came, you let out a yelp, your legs closing on either side of his head. James had pressed his lips against her, peppering little kisses against your centre, and after a moment or two of that, opened his mouth to slip his tongue deliberately along the folds. The sensation of his tongue darting out to taste you was enough to send you to the moon, but he continued, delving further into you. Your legs opened again, exposing more of your aching cunt to him.

You felt his nose press into the mound of flesh as he flattened his tongue on your clit, lapping at it hungrily. Your body responded by squirming, a desperate whimper pouring from your throat. His hands were suddenly on your pillowy thighs, holding you tight where you were. With a vibrating groan, his tongue abruptly changed techniques; he began flicking the tip of his tongue into the underside of your clit. Your moans - though they were teetering on the edge of screams — bounced off the walls of the empty room.

In a delirium of ecstasy, you’d gripped the hair at the crown of his head, pulling it hard. He grunted into your pussy, sending vibrations deep into your core. His hand came down on the side of your ass with a resounding slap. You shuddered violently, your sopping cunt clenching tight against his chin, wetting it as your first orgasm came in sudden waves. James slipped his tongue deep inside of your entrance, feeling the pulses as they gradually subsided. Before pulling away to look at the flower in front of him, and what he’d done to it, he let out a throaty, pleased growl. A small puddle had formed on the table, your slick arousal leaking from the hole like sweet nectar dripped from the centre of a fruit.

“Ahhh…” he exhaled. “Divine.”

His eyes darting to the side, James made a mental note to have Miss Evers re-polish the table. After this, it would certainly need it.

The way he gazed upon you, seemingly satisfied with just how wet you were drove your head into the table with a thunk. You arched your back with a whimper, somehow still unsatisfied. From the side, came his voice. “Use your words, my darling.”

Your eyes snapped open, startled that you hadn’t heard him move around. You swallowed, looking up at him piteously. For a moment you dug deep into your own mind, battling with coherency to find the correct words. And, disappointingly, all you could muster was: “I… want more.”

“Yes….. yes, you do.”

Gently, with two fingers, James pulled your jaw towards him, moving your head so that your cheek laid against the table. There was a certain predatory nature in his gaze as he looked at you. “Open up,” he demanded, his thumb prodding your lips. “That’s my girl…”

He smeared his thumb along your warm, strong tongue, depressing it and feeling around the rest of your mouth. He glided over your smooth teeth, digging the fleshy pad into the decently sharp points of your incisors.

“Don’t bite me… too hard.”

With that, he began unbuckling his trousers with one hand, sliding the belt from its loop. You watched intently as this handsome, charming stranger handled himself; taking himself out his undergarments and his trousers, roughly adjusting his cock so that it was free for your devouring. He closed his hand along the length, pumping it several times. A generous droplet of precum leaked from the red, sweating tip and before it had time to string away, he guided his cock to your mouth.

He smeared your lips over the head, coating it in his own dripping seed. His hips then bucked the length into your mouth, bringing a whimpering gag from deep within your throat. Gentle, he thought. With the way your mouth eagerly worked him, doing your best to suck and lap at his aching cock, that thought was whisked away seconds later.

Wet sounds filled the room as James fucked your pretty little mouth, your lipstick smearing waxy, blood-coloured streaks on the shaft of his cock. In your peripheral, it was quite a gruesome sight, but he seemed to enjoy it, tilting his head to watch.

You closed your lips around the tip as it slid out, letting your tongue flatten on the underside of it. You felt every throbbing vein, but every time your tongue or lips grazed that one, the protruding one, James making sounds that you’d only ever dreamed of hearing a man make. It was a breathy, higher pitched moan, or a choking gasp, and each time he did, the corners of your lips curled up into a smile, delighted with eroticism. You pressed your tongue hard into it, sliding it up and down. From this angle, you realised, you couldn’t do much else… but perhaps that’s how he’d wanted it.

You remembered his previous mention of biting, so thinking that it was something he favoured, you began toying with his sensitivity by grading your teeth along his shaft. He hissed, ceasing his thrusts to crane his neck back, revelling in the amalgam of pain and pleasure.

“Harder,” he demanded.

You furrowed your brows in concern, daunted by the new territory that lay ahead. You closed your mouth a little more, the ridges of your teeth gently clamping down on his swollen cock. Suddenly, James gripped your face hard, squeezing your cheeks together like a fish. You winced as he leaned forward to hiss in your open mouth, his demeanour suddenly callous and dreadful. “I said not too hard.”

He released it sharply as you did, and punishingly bucked his hips into your wanting mouth. His thrusts were quick, and marvelled at the tiny, pathetic gags that broke from your throat every time he hit the back of it. You were so delicate, but so… willing.

Suddenly, he pulled his cock from your lips with a sick, filthy slurping sound, and holding it in his right hand, moved back to the head of the table. His breaths were ragged, hungry. You blinked away the tears that had accumulated.

“You nearly ruined my makeup…” You whispered, wiping the slimy collection of drool and precum from your chin.

“I’ll do more than that.” Gripping you at the knees, James yanked you down the table’s length, your ass slipping easily against the polished wood.

Briefly, you felt the velvety hot tip of his cock teasing your cunt. He slid it between your wet folds, exhaling loudly at the slickness that greeted him. He teased you with a thrust of his hips, the tip of his head slipping slightly. You whined as he pulled away.

“What did I say about words?”

Like a toddler throwing a tantrum, you moaned shakily, gritting your teeth. “Don’t do that…”

“Do what?”

“Tease me…”

“Oh, but it’s fun. I’ll do so until you beg for it.”

“PLEASE!” You howled a moment later, taking fistfuls of his shirt and yanking him closer. You wiggled your hips at his groin, your cunt trying to find his cock desperately. You writhed around like a cat in heat, whimpering and leaking more cum onto his expensive mahogany table. In one of your hip sways, the hot tip brushed past your entrance, leaving a springy line of pre-cum in its path. In response, you rocked your hips against his, trying to pull him in further. The sensation had you gasping, rolling your head from side to side. “Please, please, please, I simply mu—

Your screams faded away into the back of his mind, dull and muted like they came from behind a brick wall. James watched your lewd, begging performance with a bemused smirk, chuckling through closed lips. Every anguished whimper, every desperate plea that his lack of action brought forward from your lips seemed to send you closer to the edge of madness. He enjoyed that. Too much, perhaps.

He reached up, running a single finger down the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse throbbing away beneath the skin. Such liveliness, such… James swallowed, suppressing the dark sludgy desire that clawed at his insides. His urges had been worse and worse lately, and now with the hotel open… Not now… not with her.

“What do I need to say?”

“Nothing more.” James took hold of his cock, stroking his fingers over the tip, dragging the slickness along his shaft. He exhaled, lining himself up. At first, James popped only the tip in and out, playing with his food. Each thrust, he slipped a little farther in. Out of the kindness of his heart, James was gradually getting you used to the feeling of fullness, but once he felt your slick walls, he grit his teeth. He had told you that he was a gentleman first and foremost, but… such is life. He swiftly sank his hard length into you with little friction. You were soaked and all it took was one determined thrust.

For a moment, you felt nothing but a searing pain as the thickness of his cock stretched your cunt wide open. Tears welled in your eyes, a cry bouncing against your rolled lips. The stinging was replaced with a dull ache, and finally, a warmth.

“My, my…” He admired. “Taking it so well already.”

You nodded feebly, doing your best to muster a smile amidst your punishing euphoria. Had you not been as wet as you were, it would’ve been excruciating. And when he started pounding, it almost was.

James must’ve sensed your discomfort because he brought his hand to your pussy, his thumb circling your clit. Mercilessly. You cried out like a wounded animal and that seemed to only drive him to continue, stroking his finger down length of your pussy before returning his attention back to the bundle of nerves. Your hips swayed back and forth on the table, desperately trying to get away from the pressure that was blossoming deep within your cunt, just above your bladder. It felt like a tangled mess of fire, and your whole centre was aflame.

You shakily lifted your head, watching as his pelvis smashed into yours, over and over again, his cock slipping easily from your aching, drenched cunt. Your hands climbed his torso. You fiddled with the buttons until his shirt hung open lifelessly, like two ghosts on either side of his body. He moaned as your fingertips explored his stomach, his ribcage, and then curled around the small of his back, forcing their way up underneath the restraint of his clothes. You felt uneven skin, the way that flesh raised once it had healed over deep lacerations.

James suddenly picked up speed, drilling into you harder and that released something in you. You felt devious, immoral, and wanted to howl like a banshee. In fact, you did. You let out a shrill, dirty moan, the kind you heard coming from those brothels as you passed them by. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes before streaming down your temples, disappearing into the hair that laid on the table. Your fingers flexed, nails digging into his back and leaving crescent-moon shaped indentations amongst his scars. Feeling your clenching, he growled and lolled his head back in ecstasy.

You pulled your leg up, pressing your nylon-covered toe against his jawline and gave it a little push.

You heard his breath hitch.

You pushed harder, craning his neck off to the side. His moan said more than any words could’ve. With a devious smirk, you drug your toe down the length of his throat, pressing hard into his windpipe.

James jerked his hips harder and harder until you felt his cock twitch inside you, hot and angry, the first spurt of his orgasm planted deep inside you. He then backed his hips out slightly, just enough for the thick ropes of cum to cover your cunt. His cock bumped into your clit with tiny thrusts, forcing every last milky drop onto you. James straightened up, clenching his fists tightly.

“Ravished. Deflowered. Desecrated!” His words echoed loudly off the walls.

His arms came down with a loud thud on either side of your head, his shirt acting as blinders. There was nothing else in that moment; just you and him and the way he’d claimed you, taken every ounce of innocence you had left.

His hands traced along your collarbone, up the sides of your neck. The black thoughts wormed into his brain, screaming for sating attention. Which weapon would he use? Where he'd cut first - an artery? Arterial blood was always so… satisfying. Would her screams be as such? The final moment, the look in her eye? Perhaps, he could hear those desperate, soprano shrieks if he just…

Thunk-thunk-thunk.

Your lids peeled open, one by one. The blazing light that filtered in through the crack in the deep red curtains burned. You hardly remembered being in a hotel room… alone, and the hotel room you remembered wasn’t the one you were in now. This one looked more or less like any new hotel room that you could’t afford. Moving yourself into an upright position, you let out a depressed bleat… the headache. How much champagne did you have last night? You couldn’t remember.

Sleepily rubbing your eyes, you stumbled towards the door. “Just a minute!”

You were completely nude. That wouldn’t do to answer the door in. Panicked, you looked around the empty hotel room, considering the bed sheets for a moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a Praising the gods for the robe that had been hung on a hook by the door as you slipped your arms into it and hurriedly tied it round your waist. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the framed photo near the door; your hair was a wreck, makeup smeared, and there were the faintest whispers of new bruises along your collarbone and neck.

The doorway was empty, as was the hallway.

Except for the box at the floor.

Despite giving a complete stranger your virginity last night, you had more sense than to bend down and open a foreign box. Clutching the robe at your chest, you began gingerly prying open the edge of it with your foot, wiggling your big toe underneath the fine cardboard until the lid popped off.

Inside, carefully arranged and wrapped in delicate pink tissue paper, laid a dress; a dress that was terribly similar to your own, but considerably more expensive. Atop it, a package of fine silk nylons. And atop those, in exquisitely elegant penmanship, a handwritten note lay. It read:

Thank you for a splendid evening, my dear. My deepest apologies about your dress — please accept this as a replacement. As for the flowers, it only seemed fair, considering the circumstances.

xoxo James P. March

You picked the box up, again checking the hallway to see if the deliverer was there. Still, empty. With a sigh, you shut the door, leaning against it. As you leaned there, holding the box in your arms, the corner of it digging into the middle of your neck, you winced at a sudden pang of soreness.

Your eyes drifted to the clock on the nightstand. “Nearly noon!? Oh, RATS!”

You pushed yourself off the door and changed hurriedly, throwing the robe off your shoulders and onto the floor. Mother! Mother would be furious and nothing was more terrifying than her rage. You’d rather be chopped up and filleted than have to deal with Mother’s anger, even as an adult. You pulled the nylons up as far as they could go without clips, and snatched the mink stole off the bed.

You threw open the heavy door and turned to your left, hoping for the best. You began running as quickly as you could down the lengthy hallway, barefoot. The straps of your shoes were hooked around your middle finger. With no markers, and no indication of where you were going, anxiety climbed your throat. Somehow though, after winding back and forth and up and down for what felt like hours, you managed to find the lobby.

As you emerged from the hallway, it was considerably less busy than last night. Where the band had been, waiting chairs and tables had been placed, a courtesy for guests waiting to check in. The cleaning team of the Hotel Cortez was marvellous, you had to admit. As you ducked your hips away from the edge of a chair, you spotted him. James March was leaned against the bar, chatting gayly with the bartender. The bartender nodded, swiping a rag over the spot directly in front of him. A glass of bourbon sat in front of James, perspiring. Much like you were. So it hadn’t all been a dream. He looked the same as he had last night, no hint of a hangover or fatigue. Just… charming. You inhaled and headed for the door.

“A perfect fit!” He called out from the balcony, his glass raised in a cheers. A few guests turned, searching for the voice. You jumped. The man had a talent for startling you — you’d give him that. You turned, your brows upturned in the middle, asking silently for clarification.

“The dress!”

“Oh! Yes! It does…. Thank you! It’s beautiful, Mr. March!”

“How’s your neck!?” He asked, lowering his head slightly.

The question threw you off. “….fine, but I really must be going, Mr. March! Bye!”

“Come back to the Hotel Cortez any time, my darling! As my guest.”

James watched you hurry out the door, knowing that if you did come back for a second time… it would be the last time.

#James Patrick March #James Patrick March x you #James Patrick March x reader #ahs smut #ahs fanfiction #AHS Hotel #james march x reader #myfics

[kit-walk3r]

Maybe a fic with James being with a modern human girl? Maybe she’s super into technology and has a Wednesday Addams style and sense of humor!!

Thank you for the request, sorry it’s a little late! Confession: I haven’t seen Wednesday or the Addams family so don’t know much about her personality/sense of humour. What I’ve gathered from the internet is that she’s sarcastic and has a dark sense of humour. I’ve tried to incorporate that into this as best as I can but I apologise if it’s not Wednesday accurate. I hope you enjoy it either way 💓

Photograph (James Patrick March x fem!reader)

James becomes fascinated with your phone.

Warnings: slight mention of blood

You were lounging about in the hotel room you often shared with James, mindlessly messing about on your phone when James appeared. He wasn’t in his usual three piece suit attire, but just an undershirt, trousers and a bloody apron. From his get-up you knew that he had just been butchering up some poor stranger. You were used to that by now, so you were barely phased by his bloody appearance. On the off occasion you actually found yourself weirdly liking it.

“What is that device?” James asked, pointing at your mobile in your hand. He’d often seen you playing around on it but didn’t actually know what it was, or what it did.

“It’s my phone,” you said, voice dry in a ‘duh’ tone as if it were obvious. It would be obvious to anyone if they weren’t from the 1920s.

James scoffed. “That’s not a telephone,” he denied.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, it is,” you said. “Things are different now, you’re just old.”

“Let me see it,” James extended his hand, expecting you to hand your phone over to him. You did as he said, realising how funny it was going to be to watch James try and use your phone.

James examined the phone, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he tried to work out what it was and how it worked. “What on Earth is this?” He muttered to himself. He pressed the power button in his examination and the screen suddenly lit up, startling him slightly at the unexpected light. “Oh my…”

The screen turned black again and you watched James as he just stared at the blank screen, unsure of what he did to turn it on. It was getting painful watching him try to understand your phone, so you decided that it was time to offer him some help.

“I’ll show you,” you got up so that you were standing next to James and pressed the same power button James had used just moments ago, lighting the screen up again. James’ eyes widened with fascination as he watched you type in your passcode and another screen popped up, this one filled with lots of little tiny square images.

“To use it you just touch the screen like this,” you swiped your finger across the screen so it switched to a new page, demonstrating how to use it to James. You pointed at the app icons. “These are called apps. You can use them for a bunch of different things. You can play games, call people, take photos,” you clicked on a random app. “And to open one you just click it like that.”

“Google,” James’ eyes squinted as he read something off your screen. “That two tone haired buffoon said he ‘googled’ me. What exactly is Google? It sounds obscene.”

“You look things up,” you explained simply. You snatched your phone back off James and typed ‘James Patrick March’ into Google. You handed it back to him. “See? That’s all information on you.”

James began to run his finger over the screen, looking at all the different results that had come up. “‘Ten things you probably didn’t know about infamous serial killer James Patrick March’,” He read aloud before scoffing.

However, he clicked on the page and, after a moment of amazement at watching the screen change yet again, started reading what it said. There was an intense look of concentration as he read the entire thing. “That was ridiculous,” he claimed once he had finished. “Did this ‘Google’ honestly think I would not know my own birthday?” He shook his head. “What utter nonsense.”

You snorted at James’ anger at the article, finding humour in how worked up he was getting over one webpage.

You showed James how to exit the app and let him play around with your phone for a bit longer, exploring the different applications and settings on your phone. He ended up in your gallery, and was flicking through your photos with a growing grin. “Darling,” he held up your phone, showing a photo you had taken of yourself earlier. “You’re breathtaking.”

There was a slight hint of a blush in your cheeks at his words, but you played it off as if you were unaffected by his words, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. You liked playing him that way, not letting him see the real effect he had on you. You could tell when he would slowly get frustrated when he couldn’t get a reaction out of you.

James continued flicking through different photos on your face, eyes wide with fascination at photographs of yourself he found. He looked up at you. “I want to take one,” he announced.

You looked at him oddly. “Uh, okay,” you shrugged. You opened the camera app and switched the camera round so that it was front facing. “Just press this button when you’re ready.”

James nodded and looked down at the phone. After staring at the screen intensely for a moment he finally pressed the button and took a picture. You noticed how his facial expression did not change.

Once he was done, James handed you the phone back with a satisfied look on his face, clearly happy with the photo he took.

One glance at it and you couldn’t help but snicker. James looked confused.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, voice laced with confusion yet also slightly defensive.

You showed James the photo, trying to hold back more laughs. “It’s just not the most flattering angle of you,” you explained. It was taken from a very low angle and didn’t exactly capture James’ handsome features.

James looked offended at your words, like he was seriously insulted by your critique of his first attempt at taking a photo of himself on your phone. It was understandable, he was quite the perfectionist and not being able to do something as simple as taking a nice photo of himself must have been hurtful to his ego.

“Here, let me take one,” You offered. It would be nice to have a good (and attractive) photo of him on your phone. James thought for a moment, not necessarily wanting to admit defeat over not being able to take a nice photograph of himself, but remembered that you were more affiliated with the modern world and clearly knew how to take a better picture, so he finally agreed.

“Great,” you opened the camera on your phone and raised it to take the photo, before thinking of something and pausing. “Maybe you should get changed?” You suggested. “You’re still covered in someone’s blood and even though it’s a look I think one of your suits would look much better. More hot.”

James looked down at his bloody attire before nodding in agreement and disappearing. He reappeared a few minutes later, finely dressed in one of his pinstripe suits and hair neatly combed over. He looked good. He looked great. Wow.

“I’m ready for my photograph,” James announced.

You nodded and raised your camera to take the photo. James actually posed, not looking directly at the camera but slightly off into the distance, and you rolled your eyes at his dramatics. James was always one to be more theatrical than needed, of course he wouldn’t pose with a simple smile. Anyway, you took a couple of photos before handing your phone to James to check.

He looked down at the screen and grinned with the same satisfaction he had when he took the photo himself. “I do look rather dashing, even if I do say so myself,” James said smugly.

“That you do, James,” you agreed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “That you do.”

•———•

I hope this was okay! I’m still a little nervous about how I write James since he’s such a distinct character but I hope I did an okay job. Thank you for the request!

My requests are still open 💓

Taglist: @jellyluvr @howtobesasha @dewberryobssesed @luv4evan @kaismanwich @violetharmonstwin @daylas-life @mariefics

Want to join my taglist? Just reply here!

#american horror story #ahs #james patrick march #evan peters #James Patrick March x you #James Patrick March x reader #James Patrick March x y/n #ahs hotel #American horror story hotel #James March #tate langdon #kit walker #kyle spencer #jimmy darling #kai anderson

[babygorewhore]

Investigation.

James Patrick March and The countess smut.

After following a mysterious vampire during the night, you decide to stay at the Cortez for a weekend. But two powerful monsters are determined to have you. Requested by @the-goblin1

Warnings! Bi! Fem reader! Violence, threesome! Oral! Fem recieving! Fingering, PnV! Choking. Bloody play! Knife play! Daddy kink.

The renovation of the Hotel Cortez was something you heard about on social media. Propaganda’s of the event blossomed throughout the city, everyone paid attention to the announcement and bustles of gossip came through the mouths of passerby’s.

But you knew the truth of the Hotel. Something others seemed to either remain ignorant of or simply ignored. It started small, random disappearances from girls you used attend high school with, the aura of darkness on the nights you snuck out to spy in the windows and then you saw her.

She was beautiful, long blonde hair, expensive clothes and a demeanor that oozed with power, seduction and lethal senses. You hid behind a phone booth, realized that you recognized her from haphazard places of the town. Whenever she appeared, two people, a couple would follow her like ghosts and they would never been seen again.

You learned how to trail someone from hundreds of horror movies and a embarrassing amount of true crime television and you followed her. She glided across the ground as if she was made of light. As you proceeded to walk, you took noticed of the way she drank in the bodies of those who surrounded her. Male or female, it didn’t matter.

She finally came to a stop when an attractive man approached her, close to an empty alleyway, dark and forbidding as she leaned in close to him, accepting a kiss on her cheek. You stepped into the shadows, pressing your back against the brick wall as you watched.

They spoke in whispered conversation, until he placed his hands low on her hips. She ducked her head, her lips brushing against his neck and you briefly debated on whether to leave until you saw her hands flex. Her pointer finger, covered in a sharp rang glimmered in the moonlight and faster than you imagined, it sliced across his throat. You covered your mouth, suppressing a gasp as she pulled him deeper into the confines of the darkness of the alley.

You had no choice but to lean over, horror crossing you as her teeth sunk into his neck where blood gushed like a faucet.

The air constricted in your throat as you watched silently as she drained him of life, his body going slack and his ankles buckled. He collapsed onto the ground, weakly groaning as she wiped her blood dripped mouth.

Before her head could turn in your direction, you started walking backwards then you turned, quickening your pace as you locked your sight on the sparse individuals still walking this late. Your heartbeat was quick as you finally blended in. You checked over your shoulder, ensuring she wasn’t behind you.

That caused you to spiral, sending yourself to a library and you dug through old newspaper articles until your eyes locked on a particular image. The woman, she was younger ,her hair was darker. Her face held an expression of surprise as if she didn’t expect her photo taken. But your eyes flickered over another figure, the man in the middle who was looking at her.

You recognized him, James Patrick March. He was featured on a true crime documentary and known for his sadistic killing. But he was also the owner of the hotel.

And that’s what brought you here. The night of the grand display of newly renovated features. It was open to guests and you saved your money to stay over the weekend.

You didn’t have fancy clothes, let alone anything near the expensive dress the mysterious woman, who you learned after further digging, Elizabeth, wore. But you found a vintage dress in your local thrift store. It was dark red, the color of wine and black heels. You wore a simple locket, one of your graduation presents from a few years back. Your hair was tied back with a headband and you even decorated your features with 1920s makeup.

You knew it wasn’t a party, including requirements for dressing the old part but you were determined to satisfy your deep desire to figure out if your hunch was correct.

As you opened the doors, you were greeted with a modest size amount of people, an array of genders and dress. The bar was open, two women attending it and your eyes drifted to the welcome desk. Your heels clicked as you walked towards it, clutching your small purse.

“Welcome,” An older woman greeted you, with graying hair and blue eyes. But her appearance radiated the same cold energy as Elizabeth. You forced yourself to smile as you studied her and you placed the cash on the counter.

“I’m here for the weekend.” You declared and she nodded.

She handed over a room key and you slid it between your fingers as you examined the display. Red and gold was the theme color, the furniture was shined and vintage, much like your dress. Everyone was sipping drinks except you and you decided to make your way to the bar when your eyes caught a flash above on the higher balcony.

It happened so quick, you were half certain it was a figment of your imagination but as your eyes narrowed on the dark corner, you saw a wisp of dark hair. Short. Explicitly a men’s haircut.

Your stomach dropped and your legs walked forward to the second set of stairs when one of the women attending the bar, caught your eye and signaled you over to walk over. Against your wish to investigate, you carried yourself over to the bar. Her thick eyeliner gaze fell on your exposed shoulders and she smiled.

“Your dressed for the occasion, young lady. I’m Liz.” She mused and you rested your hands on the counter. You weren’t sure of her intent as she fixed a glass of mysterious alcohol.

“I don’t-“

“Oh, I was asked to make this for you.” She answered before you could finish. And you paused.

“Asked by who?” She didn’t respond and you inhaled sharply. Your jaw clenched with apprehension as she placed the drink in front of you.

“You’re a popular topic here,” She said slowly and you wanted to disappear. How would they speak about you-

“The countess has seen you on two separate occasions spying. The second time she said you watched her…feed? Is that true?”

“Shit.” Was all you could say.

“But don’t be worried, it’s not her attention you’ve caught. It’s his.” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“His?”

Liz nodded, flicking her fingers.

“Yes, dear. Take a sip, you don’t want to catch anyone else’s attention.” You swallowed before obeying.

She busied herself and kept her eyes down before she spoke again. “He saw you that night. Watching through the window. He wouldn’t rest until the countess told him about the night you followed her.”

Your hand shook as you took another sip. She couldn’t possibly mean-

“You can’t be talking about James patrick March. He’s dead.” You whispered. She nodded. Not disagreeing with you.

“But that doesn’t mean he’s not here.” If you saw a vampire, draining the life of a unsuspecting male, then it couldn’t be that terribly difficult to grasp that it was a reality that perhaps there was more than you originally believed belonged in this hotel.

“Where can I find him?” You pondered. She met your eyes and shook her head.

“No, no. He finds you.” A chill ran down your spine as you finished the drink, a little too fast and your cheeks warmed.

Without another word, you straightened your spine and started again towards the stairs. You didn’t know what awaited you, but you were beyond curious to find out. Your fingers traced the decorated walls, paintings and photographs of different decades led you to a corridor of rooms, you glanced at your room key and noticed your assigned room.

You glanced over your shoulder, half expecting ghouls and vampires to spring themselves on you. But you quickly unlocked your door, stepped inside with a woosh from your skirt. Your room was large, bed made and an old television in the center. The bathroom held a decent sized bathtub and shower with a white curtain. With your paranoia of watching too many Halloween movies, you looked behind the curtain.

You didn’t know what to do. Sit and wait for a hundred something year old ghost to what? Torment you? Kill you given his history? You knew you should run away screaming but you were already invested. You had to know, what the fuck was going on. Why were all these people dying? Was it just Elizabeth? You doubted that. She couldn’t have taken all of them. No, someone else was prowling the city. But what could you do about it? Call the police?

You sighed and fiddled with your locket. It was merely because you were nosy. You wanted to come here but you never had the excuse before. All your life you always believed there was more than death. Something else had to exist.

A knock sounded at the door, your head darted upward and you saw a piece of paper slid under the door.

You hesitated before slowly walking towards the door, before crouching down. The paper was written with calligraphy handwriting, and your eyes widened as you read the message.

“Meet me at my room. Room 32.”

Swallowing, you briefly considered rejecting the request but you couldn’t. You’ve come this far. Opening your door, you walked slowly down the hall, reading each room number. You smoothed a hand down your dress for the thousandth time as you located room 32. It was at the end and you already took in the difference in the construction of the entrance.

The dark wood was covered with gold swirls and whirls of paint. They are circled the door number, that glimmered even in the dim lighting. Even the doorknob was shining. Was that real diamonds? Probably, you surmised. You nodded to yourself, before raising your hand to knock.

“Come in.” Your eyebrows lifted. It was a female voice.

Your hand lightly trembled as you turned the knob, your eyes met with lights above. The room looked like a magazine. Couches, chairs and expensive paintings. Glass decor, fur pillows and a record player. But your eyes fell on the enormous bed. A customized bed frame held together the mattress.

Your gaze shifted then, finding a petite blonde woman and you immediately recognized her. Elizabeth. She wore a purple silk robe, her hair was tied up, adorning white slippers on her pale feet. Her eyes slowly trailed over your body and you felt assessed by a predator. Well, she was. “Hello, dear.”

“Um. Hi?” You responded gingerly. Her lips formed a small smile before she started walking towards you. You wanted to back away, but you forced yourself to stay still. “Are you…mad?” You were nervous asking the question but she shook her head as she stood in front of you.

“Mad? Mad about a darling girl, smart enough to conceal herself in the shadows? If I wasn’t experienced in this lifestyle, I wouldn’t have noticed you.”

You held your breath as she reached forward, her gloved hand extended to a sharp finger. She ran her digit over your cheek softly, before she lifted your chin. “You’ve impressed me.” She gave you a crooked smile.

The sensation made you feel confused. You felt fear, because she could easily kill you. But you also felt soothed by her gentle touch. Elizabeth leaned in closer, smelling your scent. Your heart hammered as you stared at her. “I just had to see you, before he claimed you.” Her lips brushed against your neck and you finally pulled back.

“Are you talking about James?” She raised an eyebrow and stepped back, her hand lowering from your chin.

“Yes. I see you’ve done your homework.”

“So, you’re some sort of…vampire? And he’s a ghost?” Elizabeth chuckled and tilted her head.

“In modern words, yes. But I have something of a virus. Jamesy, his soul is trapped here. His rampage ended by his own hand. But if you die here, you stay here.”

“I’ll make sure to stay alive.” You breathlessly replied.“I was told he would find me. Where is he?”

“He’s waiting for you. But like I said, I had to see you first. You’re breathtaking,” She whispered and brought her finger against her lips. “If James bores you…then you know where to find me.” You rush to the door, leaning your back against it as you breathed heavily.

She just offered to bed you. The murdering vampire. Would you take it? You weren’t sure. But you couldn’t stop thinking about James. How he lurked around. Watching everything that happened. You still didn’t know which room was his. But you imagined it would look similar to hers. Decorated in expensive crafts.

You walked through the corridor, trying to find any signs of a singular detail of the identical doors until an idea resonated with you. Maybe he was on the opposite side. If she was on the other end, maybe he was. As quickly as you could in heels, you carried yourself. You hoped no one could hear your maddening travels as you made your way to the further side of the hotel. You almost gave up until you finally saw a clue.

At the corner of a room door, 64 you narrowed your eyes. Whereas the identification of the numbers were silver, this one was gold. Biting your lip, you walked directly in front of it, preparing to knock but it was already partially opened, it swung further from the air of your hand.

The energy was chilled, you didn’t know if you should step inside but something magnetic was pulling you. It smelled warm, inviting as you inhaled and peered around. It was dark but it wasn’t the same as Elizabeth’s. The color scheme was the same as the rest of the building, red and gold but this was filled with vintage furniture.

Deep cherry colored chairs, a golden rug but in the center of the room was a long dining table covered in lit candles. A bed, not as large as the females, was made perfectly with white covers with a circular bed-frame. An overhead painting hung above the mattress and you recognized it from the old newspaper.

It was a listing of murders James Patrick March committed discovered after his suicide. Your eyes widened. He celebrated it. Left it hanging like a trophy. You turned around to flee, finally giving into fear but someone spoke.

“Darling, I knew you would find me. I’ve been waiting for you.” All the air left your lungs and you cocked your head to the right. Stepping out the shadows, stood the dead man. James Patrick March.

He was even more handsome than the photos, wearing a blue suit, white shirt with black hair dark as a ravens wing. A thin mustache above his upper lip. And his black eyes, swept over your flushed face and neck. “You’re sensational, my little mouse. I do enjoy the look of fear on your beautiful face.”

Your mouth parted from the compliment, salvia growing as your cheeks continued to warm dramatically. He was alluring, everything about him radiated power and seduction as he prowled towards you and you were frozen.

You were attracted to him. Deeply. And he could tell as a small smirk crossed his features as he came painstakingly close to you. Black shoes inches away from touching your heels. “I’ve watched you, told all the other bastards here not to touch you,” James large hand ghosted your arm, his fingers grazing the flesh of your wrist before he brought your knuckles to his lips.

He gently kissed the skin and you trembled from his touch. He lowered your hand, releasing it but he didn’t move away. “There’s very few people who’ve interested me, but a woman so determined to discover the secrets of the Cortez, even following Elizabeth caught my attention.”

You shut your eyes for a few seconds. It was true. There were other ghosts here.

“She already gave me an invitation,” You decided to reply and James smiled wider.

“Ah, yes. The countess has a knack for claiming something I want. Unless…you desire her. I could arrange her to join us in our…conversation.” You gasped at his implication.

“Uh-um-I’m not-sure.” You stuttered and he grinned wider.

“Splendid. But I must have you first. I’ve been curious of your thoughts, my little bird. What do you think of my creation?” He gestured to the room and you followed the direction of his hand.

“I think it’s wonderful,” You confessed. “I think you’re a genius. And I’m terrified of you.”

James nodded, pleased with this. “Mmm, yes. As you should be. I’m a dangerous man. But, you make me wonder. Did you believe in ghosts before me?”

You shrugged, wringing your hands together. “I always believed there was something after death. But I wanted to be sure.”

James tilted his head down, his mouth inches from your yours. You couldn’t move. “And now, you’re sure. Come.” He pulled away, but extended his veiny hand towards you.

You had a choice. Accept his hand, no doubt also accepting a sexual invitation or leave. And never return. Your core tightened and against better judgment, against sanity, you took his palm.

James walked to his bed, gently guiding you to sit down. He stood in front of you as you sat on the mattress, his knee nudged your legs apart. Your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it as he lowered himself down to one knee.

He unbuckled the strap around your ankle, his fingers ghosting around your bare skin as he removed the other heel. After they were set on the ground, his fingers carefully ran over your legs, causing goosebumps before he placed a light kiss to your knee. You trembled as your separated legs had been pushed aside, allowing him to pepper kisses to your exposed calves.

Your eyes fluttered until they shot wider as you heard the slick sound of a knife. James had pulled a blade from his jacket, the long dagger gleamed in the light and you exhaled sharply. You tried to move away but James caught you by the back of your neck, leaning above you as he pressed the knife against your neck.

“Darling, I’m a gentleman,” He whispered before he moved your chin higher. “But I never said I was a gentle, man.”

He crashed his lips to yours, sealing his words while keeping the dagger against your flesh. He tugged your lower lip with his teeth, biting hard enough to draw blood before he inches away, hovering over your mouth.

James trailed the knife down your neck, you kept impossibly still as he circled the exposed skin of your cleavage with the tip, but not hard enough to cut you. Your chest moved as he licked a long, stripe over your skin, tugging down your dress to expose your breast.

“You taste, ravishing, my pet.” He growled. “But perhaps I can taste you somewhere else.“

James returned to his knees, as his strong hands lifted up your dress over to your stomach, and his eyes fell on your underwear stuck to your pussy. He moaned deep in his chest as he set the blade down. “Darling, will you let me?”

You panted as you nodded. James hooked his fingers around the waist band of your underwear and he pulled them down, tossing them aside. His hands spread your legs by your knees, and he moved in.

He laid his tongue flat against your clit, before licking it up, and then down. You had been resting on your elbows and your eyes squeezed shut as he inserted his tongue inside you before slowly circling your clit.

“Lay back,” He commanded, the words vibrating from inbetween your legs and you obeyed him. He approached you like a starving man, increasing his speed at your clit before he targeted your entrance and then back up.

You had experienced being eaten out once, a clumsy attempt during a drunken night but it was nothing like this. James was skilled and brought you close to your climax quickly. You whimpered as he gripped your thighs harder, bruising you as he licked you like ice cream.

“Cum, darling. Show me how good this feels.” You were tipped over the edge as your orgasm hit you hard. Your hips rolled against his face as he continued his assault on your pussy. Tears were brought to your eyes as he didn’t slow down, your clit burned as he kept at it, you reached down to shove his face away but he merely pinned them down with impressive strength.

“James-please-I can’t take it.” He finally stopped and released your hands. But he stared down at you with intimidating blackened eyes.

“Move up on the bed, darling.” Listening, you shimmied upwards, your head touching the headboard and James stepped away to open a drawer.

He pulled out something.

Rope.

You grunted as he moved quickly, situating your wrists above your head, securing them tightly to the bed. You couldn’t move. James smiled wickedly.

“What are you going to do?” Tears pricked your eyes and he tsked at you, stroking his finger along your warm cheek.

“Mmmm, you’re such a delicious little creature. So scared, so vulnerable, and so wet,” He winked at you. “Daddy can’t have all the fun, can he?”

“What?” You whispered.

“I promised someone they could sample you, before I do.” Your stomach dropped as you realized exactly what he meant.

Oh, god.

You hadn’t even heard Elizabeth enter the room. Her steps silent as she crept behind James. Blood soaking her full lips as she hummed at your helpless body. “Jamesy, please tell me you didn’t use your cock yet, you promised.”

James straightened his back. “Of course not, dearest. I’m a man of my word. She’s all yours. For now.” He ran his tongue over his teeth as she went on all fours on the bed.

Your eyes widened as she rubbed the blood off her chin, the red coated her pointer and middle finger and she trailed them along your spread legs. Panting, Elizabeth’s hand disappeared inside your hiked up dress. You felt her digits graze your bare pussy and her thumb found your swollen clit.

Your breathing came in short bursts as she slid two fingers inside, curling them up to the spongy walls. “Oh, you poor little girl. You need this, don’t you?” She pumped them harder and then lowered her mouth, onto your bare breast, swirling her tongue around the perked nipple. Your head pressed against the pillow harder, wetness growing as she easily finger fucked you. Blood smeared on your chest, and she gently bit the bud.

A hand gripped your throat, and your head jerked up to see James above you as Elizabeth continued leaving bloody marks on your chest. “Keep your eyes open, darling. I’d hate to have to prove a point,” He smirked.

The countess chuckled against you and she pulled away. “Maybe, just one little taste, James. Then she’s all yours.” He kept your neck in his hold as she flicked the sharpened nail and brought it against your breast.

It slit the small area and you winced. Blood pooled from the area and Elizabeth licked the plasma, her tongue warm against the surface and you moaned. But kept your eyes open in fear of what James would do.

“Mmm, you taste so good. It’s a shame you would resist becoming like me, Angel.” She lingered over you, her eyes drawn to your mouth. “A kiss goodbye then…or maybe you’ll take me up on my offer someday.”

She kissed you, passionately sucking in your lower up and you tasted the remaining blood. Her tongue swept across your lips, forcing you to open them as she then tangled her tongue against yours. Your orgasm came again, and her fingers slowed as you chased it.

She removed her hand before popping her fingers in her mouth. She climbed off the bed, winking at James. “She’s all yours. For now.”

He released your throat and you gasped. The female left the room, James had you all to himself. He adjusted the ring on his finger and studied you. You were a sight to be seen, fucked out, dress haphazard and cum spilled on the bed and on your thighs. Blood on your body.

“I always knew you’d look devastating covered in blood, my bird. It’s just a shame it can’t be one of my enemies.” James adjusted his belt, pulled it down and leaving him in his boxers.

His erect dick caused a shiver down your spine as your knees touched. James shook his head, “I don’t think so, little one. Be a good girl, and tell me exactly what you want daddy to do.”

Your eyes watered from arousal, his attack and then the countess on your body left you desperate. “Fuck me, please daddy. I’ll be good.”

“One more time?” He sat inbetween your spread thighs, pulling down his boxers and you sobbed out.

“Please, fuck me, daddy. Please-“ He slammed into you, your pussy taking him from all the pent up tension and you moaned loudly.

James hand clamped around your neck again, but you welcomed the pressure as he thrusted hard inside you. His cock pushed against your tight pussy and your eyes rolled back as he brought his free hand down and stroked your clit.

“That’s it, take it like a good girl.” He grunted as he continued pounding you. Your back lifted off the bed from his force and you gagged lightly from him choking you.

You were getting close again, this time more intensely and you continued crying. “Ah, yes. I do love seeing you cry. Cum, cum for me, pet.”

Whiteness overtook your vision, and you let out a cry, louder than the others and James halted and you felt him spill inside you. He removed his hand, slowly pulling out his cock and you trembled so hard your teeth chattered.

James had sweat dampening his forehead, and he leaned down. Finally capturing your lips. He tasted like mints and cigars as he throughly tasted you, tongue flicking inside as he focused on your lower lip. You wanted to touch him and your wrist tugged at the restraints. He was addicting, you were already turned on.

His eyes darted to your pulling hands and he leaned back. You moaned sadly and he pulled his boxers back on. Not minding the mess.

He untied the rope, massaging your wrists for a few seconds before he released you. You were limp as he adjusted your dress. “Mmm, I hate to leave you, my dear. But, I’m afraid I have another matter to attend to.” You forced yourself to sit up. Your hair mused, blood staining your skin and bruises on your neck.

“And I’ll be back, I’m no where near done exploring this perfect body.” He whispered, giving you one last gentle kiss.

“And neither am I.” As he stepped away, you saw Elizabeth.

She never left. “Jamesy,” She called out from her place on the couch. He stopped suddenly.

“I think John can wait.” She purred. James started nodding.

They both turned to you.

You swallowed. You didn’t know if you’d make it out alive. But at the moment? You didn’t give a fuck.

Taglist! @spill-the-t @howtobesasha @icannot3 @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @evanptrss @randodummy @demxnicprxncess @scene-and-dandylover

#personal #evan peters #evan peters imagine #american horror story #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters x reader #tate langdon #ahs #kit walker #ahs fanfic #james patrick march smut #james patrick march #james patrick march imagine #James Patrick March x reader #James Patrick March x you #evan peters fanfic #evan peters angst #evan peters smut #evan peters characters #evan peters fluff #evan peters x you #evan peters x y/n #the countess #Ahs hotel

[joshlmbrt]

Waterways. (j. patrick march x reader)

‘YOU ARE RICHER THAN DIAMONDS.’

【𝜗𝜚 warnings; jpm ( he’s handsome but he’s a warning as well), oneshot based on an instrumental song; ‘Waterways’ by Ludovico Einaudi, not much mention of his m*rders, pet names, based in 1920, just james being a romantic! - also a small oc character - jean luc! this is kind of short, so i apologize! just trying to touch on writing for james!

【𝜗𝜚 an; my first jpm request/one-shot!!! thank you so much for the request, i hope you enjoy and it’s what you wanted!!!

THE HOTEL CORTEZ. FEBRUARY 14TH, 1920

There was a small red velvet box placed on the bed you shared with James.

He’d been called down for a small business meeting, but had requested that you get ready after having a small glass of whatever alcoholic beverage Jean Luc had made you.

‘Wear your best silk. I have a small gift just for you, darling.’

He had softly grabbed your soft hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. You’d flushed but agreed.

The door was locked as soon as you stepped in, making your way towards the expensive silk sheets James had insisted on.

You sit down, opening the box. Your heart flutters at the pearls with the diamond in the middle. There was a small note inside.

‘For my biggest supporter. I would die for you.

X - James.’

You let out a dreamy sigh, standing as you make your way towards the record, placing the needle down. You hum softly to the melody, stepping back towards the bed, slipping out of your heels.

Your fingertips, nails a blood red - James’ favorite, reach for the necklace lifting it up. Swaying your way towards the mirror, you snap it on without any trouble.

If James was there, you’d had some trouble.

You spin around, running your fingertips across them, the diamond on the necklace and your ring shining when it catches the light.

You grin to yourself, teeth digging into your red stained lips. You walk towards the nightstand, dialing a number.

“Hello?”

“Jean, It’s me,” You say your name quickly, twirling the black cord around your finger. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

⥭

James’ hand smooths down his hair, blinking a couple of times before pulling the keycard out of his pocket.

He unlocks the door, stepping in, brown eyes taking in the room.

Lit candles, the smell of vanilla and something woodsy, a soft melody coming from the record next to his leather chair, and in the middle, a platter with a silver dome on top and champagne in a ice bucket.

The door slowly shuts behind him and a hand touches his bicep.

“Welcome back, love.” You whisper softly, pressing a kiss on his cheek. A red mark is left behind. You slowly step in front of him, palms sliding up his chest.

His hand comes down to your side, his eyes trailing down to you now. “What’s this for, darling?”

“A little something to show my appreciation for this extravagant gift,” You tilt your head. Your hands come up and cup his cheeks. “And you deserve it.” You lean up on your toes, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He hums, hands soothing up your arms. “Oh, my dear, you deserve all the riches in the world,” His fingers pinch the diamond earrings in your ear. “You are richer than diamonds.”

Your heart flutters at his words, leaning in to press your lips onto his this time, fingers slipping to the back of his head. He hums softly, gripping at your shoulders before sliding his hands up to his neck.

He pulls away slowly.

“The most gorgeous person I’ve ever met.” He whispers.

You giggle softly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose where his freckle rests. “Are you hungry? I got your favorite.”

“Not right now,” He shakes his head. He steps back and you suddenly miss how close he was to you. You watch as he slips off his coat, tossing it over the arm of his chair.

James was always a neat man, so watching him carelessly toss the blazer down and unbutton his shirt to do the same thing, leaving him in just a white undershirt, you tilt your head.

He steps closer, grabbing your hand and pressing a lingering kiss to your hand, before placing it onto his shoulder, pulling you closer.

“I’d like to dance.”

“Oh, James. You know I can’t dance well. Not like you.”

“Just follow my lead, dear. I won’t let you fail,” His nose nudges your temple. “Ever.”

You smile, gripping his shoulder and hand once his hand finds yours.

“I love you.” You whisper.

He presses a kiss by your ear. “And I am deeply infatuated with you.”

【 requested by; @maeriavizsendingjpmdose

【𝜗𝜚 thank you for reading! comments, feedback, likes, & reblogs are encouraged, welcomed, & deeply appreciated!

#james patrick march x reader #james patrick march x you #evan peters x fem!reader #evan peters x reader #evan peters x you #kit walker x reader #kai anderson x reader #colin zabel x reader #jimmy darling x reader #ahs oneshots #ahs imagine

[marchsfreakshow]

Desperate Pain [James Patrick March]

Uhh,,,,idk this time lol

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

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

18+!! Just because. MINORS DNI.

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

#ahs #evan peters #american horror story #james patrick march #james march #ahs hotel #x reader #james march x reader #JPM #james Patrick March x reader #james Patrick march x you #James march x you #suggestive i guess? #jpm x reader #jpm x you #American horror story hotel #ahs imagine.