#Slasher fanfic

[sunkendreams]

kickstart my heart.

REQUEST SUBMITTED BY @darklylucid

“Paul’s always been flirty, and you’ve never really taken it seriously. After a minor incident on the boardwalk, Paul decides that he’ll make you take him seriously, one way or another.”

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. | paul (the lost boys) x fem!reader.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓. | one-shot — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. | 6.8K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. | SMUT (mdni), friends to lovers, jealous!paul, paul is really flirty/touchy, oral sex (f!receiving), spit as lube, choking (m!receiving), hair-pulling, paul is definitely a mess, dirty talk, pet names (baby, girl, sweet girl), cowgirl, vaginal sex, scratching, biting, bloodplay (he’s a vampire), breastplay (paul loves your tits), fingering, clothes ripping, groping, nasty sex, manhandling, paul isn’t gentle

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. | i’m back and literally going insane for the lost boys ,,, thank you to @darklylucid for requesting this !!! first time writing Paul and it was so, so much fun! dwayne is up next, so prepare yourselves for that! also working on a poly!lost boys x reader series ,,, so yeah!

A cloudless dusk fell over Santa Carla, sky littered with millions of stars that hung above, providing a rather attractive backdrop to a less-than-savory town. The boardwalk was more alive than ever — it transformed with nightfall, becoming a den of depravity and mystique, coupled with the liveliness of families and the carnival atmosphere.

You were situated atop a blanket, feet partially buried within the cool sand as you sat on the beach. A concert took place many feet away as you watched people clamor from the staircase to the growing crowd. The rancor of music reverberated throughout the air, accompanied by the cheering and applause from onlookers.

Saltwater lapped at the gray shoreline, moon hanging overhead to light the way. You always came to the boardwalk at night — you made plenty of friends, but you happened to have a peculiar bond with a pack of vampires. It wasn’t intentional — you never meant to befriend them like you had, but you didn’t regret a thing.

The familiar roar of motorbikes resonated in the near-distance, splitting past swarms of carnival-goers as they descended the steps. It never took very long for them to find you, bearing down upon you like a pack of hyenas.

Marko’s laughter filled the air as he and Dwayne pulled up along the terrace above you, parking their bikes next to the length of black grating. David and Paul followed suit, hauling Star and Laddie in-tow. You were more focused on the gleam of the moonlight hitting the water and the seashell you’d been turning over within your palm.

A thump resonated from your left side, and you nearly shrieked, jumping from your own flesh as Paul landed atop the blanket. He scooped a finger against your chin, plump lips pulled back to reveal his pearlescent smirk. A faint aroma of stale cologne and hints of marijuana clung to him, but that was commonplace.

“Hey baby,” Paul crooned, kicking one leg up against his chest as the rest of the boys lingered around the balcony, save for Marko. He descended from above like a cat leaping toward perch, landing in the sand with grace. His presence was intentional, solely to agitate Paul. “Where’ve you been?”

Paul’s constant flirtation was something that you were used to — painfully so. You always wrote it off as something casual, a facet deeply ingrained into his wild and spontaneous personality. Paul often flirted with anyone that had a pulse and smelled appeasing, and that included you. It was fun to watch, but sometimes you wished that he meant it.

With a huff, you attempted to swat his hand away, but he was swift, arm resting atop his propped knee as he idly bounced his head to the music. “I’ve been here,” You mused, offering a kind greeting to Marko. “Where else am I supposed to be?” You inquired, tracing the pad of your thumb over the seashell’s ridges.

Paul’s nose wrinkled slightly. “I can think of a few places,” He mused, plucking at the top of your blouse. “You gonna come down tonight?” He asked, referring to you joining them in the cave. You normally went there with the group if they were satiated and fed. You were still human, after all — being in a nest full of vampires probably wasn’t the safest or smartest idea.

“Maybe,” You shrugged, feeling Paul perch his chin atop your shoulder. The physical aspect of his flirting always made your heart race, thrumming just underneath your collarbone. Your gaze flickered toward him, brows furrowing together. “What?”

“Please?” Paul insisted, lips twitching into a Cheshire smirk, teeth and all. “Wanna hang out with you.” Of all the pack, you were closest to Paul, but sometimes, you didn’t want to be. His constant touching and lascivious nature often left you wistful and confused, aching for something that he couldn’t give you.

“Don’t listen to him,” Marko interjected, busy ogling a wandering group of beachgoers — a gaggle of younger women hanging off of the arms of burly men. It smelled like potential dinner for him. “He found a guitar.” That was all you needed to know.

A giggle escaped you as Paul threw a handful of sand toward Marko, which happened to land against his patchwork jacket and golden curls. His visage contorted into a sour expression, glaring daggers at Paul before he stood up, shaking all of it out in the process.

“You found a guitar?” You asked, watching as Paul pushed your legs flat against the blanket, allowing him to rest his head within your lap. Admittedly, your heartbeat betrayed you — you wanted to be annoyed by the gesture, but instead, you let it go.

To Paul, you smelled outrageously wonderful — better than anything he’d had before. It was an amalgamation of softer, floral perfumes coupled with whatever wash you used. He detected peach and vanilla, sweeter aromas that clung to you like a pleasant haze.

His hair was akin to that of a lion’s mane, viciously unruly as it flew around him like a halo. “Yeah,” Paul replied, somewhat distracted by your scent. “Y’know, I didn’t find it. I stole it from these amateurs up by the empty lot.” Yoo assumed that these ‘amateurs’ were no longer alive, either.

“Aren’t you considered an amateur too, Paul?” You mused, reclining back upon your hands, letting yourself sink into the soft, white sand. As you glanced down toward your lap, Paul was staring at you for what felt like an eternity, and you couldn’t discern if it was out of offense or something else.

“You’re gorgeous,” Paul mumbled, tracing one of his ring-adorned digits over the expanse of your clothed stomach. “Lookin’ good enough to eat.” He mused, and while you would’ve initially brushed off that comment, he said it with a peculiar warmth.

Goosebumps erupted along the column of your spine, causing you to shift slightly. His finger didn’t stop moving, flicking around the ruffled cotton. He wished that it was your flesh — warm and soft, waiting to invite him in. You never took any of his flirtation to heart — in truth, it might’ve been his fault, but he wanted to make you see.

You belonged to him.

With a soft exhale, you attempted to mask your shudder of delight, absentmindedly nibbling along your lower lip. “Very original,” You uttered, twisting away from his touch as if it would incinerate you. It was all meaningless — mindless sweet nothings spoken from a very precocious individual. “You’re a genius.” You teased, voice becoming slightly sardonic.

“You are,” He insisted, comfortable within your plush lap. Your scent did little to ease his feelings, overwhelming him like a thick haze. “Baby, you’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen in ages. Where’ve you been all my life?” Paul sighed, and he didn’t attempt to touch you again out of respect.

“Right,” You uttered, masking your growing agitation. Paul could have anyone he wanted — and he always did. Girls at the boardwalk swooned over him, they were always easy prey, and he indulged himself plenty of times. You were nothing more than a friend, you weren’t desirable, nor would he ever want you. “You’ve told me that before.”

Paul visibly deflated, withering away like a shriveling flower — you really weren’t convinced.

Unfortunately for Paul, you were blissfully oblivious to any of his advances, but then again, he could understand why you were skeptical. Flirtation was a natural instinct for him. While he kept his head in your lap, he shamelessly opted to rove through your thoughts. It was cheating, sure, but he was itching to know.

“Paul,” Dwayne’s voice cut through his state of contemplation, rousing the sandy-haired blonde from his stupor. Paul’s head lifted off of your lap, hastily sitting upright as he glanced up at the terrace. “We’re going for a ride.” He briefly nodded towards you as a form of greeting, swinging Laddie up onto his bike.

“You’re coming, right?” Paul asked, voice invigorated with a sense of giddiness and excitement. He got a little wild around you sometimes, but it wasn’t anything that you weren’t accustomed to by now. “Do I have to beg you or something?” He groaned, trapping you between his arms.

“You’re pathetic!” Marko snickered, jumping down to snatch you up. Even though he was the smallest of the pack, his strength was often unrivaled, save for Dwayne. You let out a startled gasp as Marko hoisted you up over his shoulder, heckling Paul in the process.

Paul bristled with anger — typically, he could excuse Marko’s antics, but not this time. A white-hot rage blistered through him, crawling across his flesh as he attempted to shake that gold away from his eyes. A snarl escaped him, and he made sure to grab your stuff as a courtesy, leaping up over the bannister.

By the time Paul had landed on the rickety wood of the boardwalk, Marko had placed you on solid ground, unable to bite back the impish smirk on his features. He was deliberately getting under Paul’s skin, and he knew it — knew all about his feelings for you, too. Perhaps that’s what made it all the more enjoyable.

Like a bat out of hell, Paul swarmed the curly-headed blonde with a vengeance, countenance contorted into a look of sheer irritation and borderline rage. “You’re dead, Marko!” He growled, lip curled in disdain.

“Sorry, Paul. You made it too easy,” Marko mused, narrowly missing a rather unsavory blow from Paul, who yanked at his jacket instead. “Jesus! Easy, I was only messing around!” He snapped, with the two bickering and locked in what was supposedly a heated argument.

“Paul,” You gently tugged on his coat, attempting to steer him away from potential violence. “It’s okay, he was just playing around.” A soft sigh escaped you as you played mediator for two vampires, brows knitting together as Paul stepped back with a huff of irritation.

“Enough.” David barked, glaring daggers as he glanced between Paul and Marko. The last thing that he wanted was for them to expose themselves on the boardwalk — it was bound to happen if they didn’t stop the horseplay. With a visible frown, he revved his motorbike, signaling for the others to fall in line.

Jealousy was an ugly thing — unpleasant, often festering inside of oneself until it rotted away at their very core. It didn’t suit Paul whatsoever. He suffered from a bout of such a potent disease, despising the way Marko had touched you, held you over his shoulder. He was usually open about sharing with his brothers, but not you — you were completely off-limits.

Wordlessly, Paul sulked towards his motorbike, sitting down with a begrudging huff. You felt inclined to follow, standing beside him with an empathetic expression. “Are you going to let me on? We’re still hanging out, remember?” You asked, voice softening an octave.

Paul felt a little better — but not completely. His ego was momentarily maimed by Marko’s antics, but it was a wound that would dissipate with time. Fortunately, you were a worthy cure as he moved forward, letting you on the back of his bike. “Saved your stuff, too.” He mused, feeling you squeeze your arms around his midsection.

“You’re my hero,” You chuckled, trying to make him feel less agitated. “Thanks.” With Paul recovering from the scuffle, David motioned for the rest of the conclave to follow, whipping his bike around onto the stretch of the boardwalk that led out onto the shoreline.

You remembered the first time Paul took you for a ride — and you very nearly had a heart attack. He drove as if it’d be his last day on earth, but you’d gotten so used to it that you stopped being a backseat driver and let him do whatever he wanted.

He was talkative and boisterous by-nature, which is why you became so concerned when he didn’t talk to you very much on the ride to the cave. Paul was normally extremely egregious and outgoing, something that you loved about him, but his bout of silence was making you nervous. You wondered if Marko had wounded his pride that badly.

As you pulled up to the cave, the boys hopped off of their motorbikes, and even Paul didn’t really wait up for you this time — something was wrong. Marko noticed, lingering at the fringes of the cavern as he glanced at you, promptly disappearing down the rocky incline. You were left to make your way inside alone, no Paul at your side or helping you down.

Once inside, you felt awkward, more than usual. Being the lone human in a nest full of vampires would always bring a little tension, but without Paul around, you felt hollow and unnerved. David regarded you with his typical stare — cynical and somewhat indifferent, and Dwayne was always solemn, much warmer than the other.

“Where did Paul go?” You asked, and it was Laddie who pointed you in the right direction, pointing toward one of the rocky tunnels that led off into their ‘rooms’, of sorts. You often referred to them as the metaphorical coffins, but Star found it to be in poor taste.

With a shaky exhale, you nodded. “Thanks.” You’d been in Paul’s ‘room’ plenty of times before, but he rarely disappeared and left you to fend for yourself. With the coordination of a baby deer who’d just learned how to take their first steps, you clamored up the uneven terrain, holding onto the rope to guide yourself up.

When you found Paul, he was lazily strumming on a guitar — the one he’d ‘found’. He had one leg kicked up, propped against the rock, the other tucked towards his chest as he played a few chords. The lack of acknowledgement sent off several red flags as you swept aside the makeshift ‘door’ — an old, velvet curtain repurposed from the hotel wreckage.

“Thanks for waiting on me,” You uttered, tone dripping with sarcasm, which captured his attention. He smelled you long before you’d entered, prompting him to turn his head, lion’s mane of hair disheveled and tousled from being pressed against a pillow. “You know, if I knew you were going to sulk around this whole time, I would’ve gone to the comic store instead.”

Paul scoffed, countenance twisting into a look of agitation, which was so unlike him. It shocked you to see him behave with such indifference, something that went against the grain of his character. “Maybe Marko can go with you.” He uttered, playing another melancholy chord on the guitar.

That’s what this was about?

“You’re not serious,” You quipped, folding your arms across your chest. “Is this about what happened at the beach? Paul, I’m not a mind-reader — I didn’t know Marko was going to do that.” He was beginning to really piss you off, which hadn’t happened yet.

For all of the meaningless flirting he’d done, the constant teasing and toying, you were vigilant. You’d tried to keep your chin up through it all. You couldn’t fathom why he was so upset about Marko’s harmless stunt — it was all playful. It was something Paul would’ve done, truth be told. Paul kept quiet, reading your mind as he surveyed your rageful inner monologue.

Instead, you were met with a wall of silence, and that made you frustrated. If Paul was going to behave like a child, you’d treat him like one. With a huff of annoyance, you waved your hand in dismissal. Your night was mostly ruined, but you figured you’d go home and try to get some sleep.

You gave him another chance to talk — it was quiet. “Fine. I’m going home, Paul.” You sighed, turning around as you prepared to make the climb back down. With a shrug of your shoulders, you barely passed through the curtain before something rustled behind you.

Just as you grabbed the rope, Paul was in front of you with inhuman speed, and he immediately snatched at your hips, dragging you away. You were protesting, interrogating him about what exactly was going on, but he persisted, locking you in his arms as he pushed you up against the wall.

“I don’t want Marko touching you,” He murmured, brows knitting together. “I want you all to myself.” You couldn’t tell if this was playful Paul trying to flirt with you again — his tone sounded so different. “You’re mine, baby.” Paul clicked his tongue, brazenly groping at your waist.

“Wh— What?” Disbelief seeped into your voice as you shook your head back and forth. “Are you fucking with me again?” Before you could get in another word, his mouth was devouring yours, vigorous and completely needy. Jesus, he tasted good — without pause, your hands flew to grab his hair in fistfuls.

A desperate whimper erupted from your mouth, buried and lost within his ravenous kiss. You needed to know what had gotten into him — why now? You began to yank on his hair in an attempt to get him to cease, and when he did, you appeared more agitated than happy. Paul normally didn’t get this reaction when he kissed someone.

“You have to tell me what’s going on,” You huffed, gaze practically pleading with him as he held you close, inhaling another gust of your saccharine scent. “First you’re flirting, then you’re mad, and now this. What’s gotten into you?” With a pointed stare, Paul relented, but he didn’t move away from you.

“You don’t take my flirting seriously,” He countered, brows furrowing together. “You don’t want to? Fine, but I’m gonna make you see how bad I want you.” Paul murmured, voice husky and alluring enough to make your knees wobble. He licked his lower lip, one hand beginning to drift underneath your blouse.

This didn’t feel real — whenever you desperately tried to search for even an ounce of playfulness, there wasn’t any. Paul was completely serious about this, and it made you weak, warmth beginning to pool between your thighs as you nodded several times over. “Okay,” You breathed, itching for more. “Then don’t stop.”

“M’gonna fuck you,” Paul smirked, eyes unnaturally bright as they glistened in the dimly-lit alcove. “You mind if I eat you out, too?” He asked, matter-of-factly. His unruly tangle of dusty-blonde tresses were stiff with age-old product, making it somewhat coarse whenever you went to grab and pull on it.

Did you mind? Laughter bubbled within your chest as your lips parted, expression incredulous as you nodded several times over. “Whatever you want,” He was gorgeous — in that crazed and unhinged sort of way. Paul stared at you as if you were both a delicious slab of meat and the most beautiful thing he’d seen. “I want you.” You exhaled.

That was all it took for Paul to claw at your clothing as if it were nothing, fingers excitedly ruffling your blouse as he yanked it up, causing you to squeak. He wasn’t gentle, but you didn’t care whatsoever. Those veined, dexterous hands ripped your blouse off of you, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

He was pushing you towards his bed, which was only really used for salacious activities, and nothing more. It was a colossal mess, the scent stale and reminded you of damp rock as he got you on your back, crawling on top of you with a devilish grin.

“Fuck, baby,” Paul sighed, slicing your brassiere off with a simple stroke of his fingers, flinging the tattered remains elsewhere. “You’ve got such a gorgeous body.” He murmured, lips sloppily trailing over your neck and collarbone as he rucked your skirt up towards your hips. Your mewls and whimpers were like music to his ears.

“Paul,” You groaned, hips rocking forward as you ground yourself against him, meeting his groin. His jean-clad erection pressed into your thigh, completely and utterly shameless. He kissed wherever he pleased, stopping to admire your breasts as they rose and fell with your excitable gasps.

Trapping a nipple within his mouth, he greedily sucked and nibbled at your swollen mound, intermingling such ministrations with eager strokes of his tongue. “Pretty tits, too.” He guffawed, playfully biting at your breast as you clutched onto his hair. “S’all mine.” Paul huffed, kneading into your pliant chest with his other hand.

A pang of arousal coursed throughout your body, striking right between your thighs. Warmth coalesced between your legs, manifesting as a stickiness that oozed from your cunt. Paul nearly growled at the smell, which was calling to him like a siren’s song. He was tempted to rip away and go right to the source, but he loved your chest just as much.

Suckling on your breast, Paul promptly provided such attention to the other, greedily biting at the soft, pliant flesh. The way you bucked and squirmed underneath him was all the more enticing, cerulean hues fluttering toward your blissed-out countenance. You tugged on his hair, causing him to let out a satisfied hiss.

“Could stay here forever,” Paul mused, pressing messy kisses atop your perky tits, and he seemed to get a little ahead of himself in the moment. Kisses soon devolved into love-bites and sucking as he found a patch of skin between your breasts. He left a string of hickeys there, beyond content with his handiwork. “Perfect.”

“Jesus,” You groaned, a mess of moans and desperate, pathetic whimpers as you wrangled with his lion-like mane of hair. “You’re bad.” With a soft hiccup, you felt his hands knead into your hips, prepared to go elsewhere if you let him.

“I can be worse, baby.” Paul prompted, eyes swarming with that familiar golden glow, ringed with a red halo around the edge of his irises. He growled, capturing your mouth with his as he kissed you, ravenous and swift as he began to make out with you. He was between your legs, arms locked on either side of you.

With a wanton moan, your hands clamored from his tresses toward his coat, wanting him to shed a few layers, too. It was only fair. Paul complied, whipping his dark coat off with an excitable haste, peeling away the mesh shirt he wore underneath. Your palms splayed out across his broad shoulders, warm flesh melding with his icy temperature.

He was well-muscled, poised — he reminded you of a coiled jungle cat, prepared to pounce. You reveled in the smattering of hair peppered across his chiseled chest, leading toward the sandy-hued happy trail that slipped underneath his tattered white jeans. His teeth brazenly bit at your lower lip, blood oozing onto his tongue.

Between the clash of lips, tongue, and teeth, Paul shuddered, lapping up any pearl of crimson that he could, hands tearing your skirt asunder. The unfortunate remains of fabric were yanked away as he let it fall to the floor, groping and kneading into you, wherever his hands took him.

You’d never been kissed like this — as if he threatened to steal every wisp of air from your lungs, hungering for you in every imaginable way. Your heart hammered against your collarbone, thrumming erratically as you hitched a leg around his hips, drawing him closer as he kept you locked in a barrage of kisses.

“Fuck,” Paul groaned, licking at your lower lip. “You smell so good, baby. I wanna taste,” He insisted, ring-adorned digits curling into the waistband of your panties. He wrestled them down until they were hitched around your knees, but he simply tore at them like the rest of your clothes. “Spread your legs for me.”

It was your turn to go sheepish on him, deliberately parting your legs at a sluggish pace. You weren’t sure as to why you’d become shy, but Paul didn’t seem to care, swiping at a tendril of drool that pooled at the corner of his mouth. Without missing a beat, his hand slipped between your legs, two digits swiping up along your wet cunt.

He gathered your slick, placing his fingers into his mouth with a satisfactory groan. The sight of him sucking your arousal away nearly made you melt. “Almost as good as your blood, sweet girl.” Paul chuckled, absentmindedly licking his lower lip as he settled onto the mattress, pressed flat atop the surface as he gathered your legs into each of his hands.

Paul slathered several kisses against your inner thighs, but he kept it short and sweet — he was here for one thing. You expected him to give you some sort of warning beforehand. “Paul, are you — O-Oh. Jesus Christ!” You squeaked, a strangled gasp escaping you as your back arched off of the mattress.

There was no pause or waiting — Paul’s impulsivity got the best of him. He was on you like a starving animal, desperate for anything he could get. His tongue pushed past your slick folds, silkily lapping over the length of your slit, savoring your taste. It was hot — you felt as if everything were set ablaze as a pleasant heat crawled across you, from head to toe.

His tongue raked hot embers across your aching cunt, body electrified by his touch. Paul’s fingers greedily dug into your pliant thighs, tossing either of your legs over his freckled shoulders as he lapped at your sweet core. His actions were swift and fueled by lust, driven by instinct as he jerked you forward.

Your stomach churned with anticipation, bleeding heat from between your legs as your thighs squeezed at his head. You felt that immense mane of hair tickle your soft flesh, goosebumps erupting along your body. Paul grunted, face buried deep within your cunt as he ate you out, messy and sloppy as could be.

“M’not Jesus,” Paul slurred, grinning like a shark as he nipped at your leg. “You taste so good, baby.” He huffed, the words spoken through the husked voice of a ravenous vampire as he returned to lapping at your poor, needy slit. Each drop of nectar that you provided to him served to momentarily dull the ache within his throat.

You kept writhing and squirming, shamelessly bucking your hips forward. He pinned you down with one hand, head spinning as your scent wafted around him like an inescapable haze. “Paul!” You mewled, practically quivering like a leaf as your cunt pathetically clenched around nothing at all.

Paul was a good sport, able to flow with the constant jolting of your hips into his mouth. Though, it only served to fuel the fire as he continued to hastily drag his tongue along your cunt, slavering for your taste. You moaned, tapering off into a myriad of sweet whimpers as your hands relocated, reaching for his hair.

The cool metal of his rings left imprints behind atop your thighs, various patterns pressed into your flesh. You were aching, body feeling feverishly hot as you bucked into his face again, feeling him clamp down on you as he held you still. His mouth was divine — it was sloppy and full of an unrestrained need.

As your digits twined into his hair, you began to pull and tug, using his unruly tresses as an anchor. Paul didn’t care in the slightest — he found it unbelievably hot as you jerked and tugged, back arched into his ministrations. He only stopped to spit a wad of saliva onto your swollen slit, body shaking with sly laughter when you gasped.

“Makin’ sure you’re ready for me.” Paul teased, but it was under false pretenses — he just wanted to spit on your cunt. He didn’t hesitate, diving back in for more, assaulting your clit with a barrage of kitten-licks and gentle suckling, enough for you to sputter.

With every movement you made, Paul would simply coax you back onto his tongue with inhuman strength, lips pursing around your clit as he began to suck and toy with the sensitive bud. Your hand grappled with his coarse tresses, the other digging into his shoulder. Your nails sank into his flesh, and Paul didn’t care whatsoever.

Arousal pooled between your legs, leaving behind a sticky mess that he was all too eager to clean up. It was only when he began to use that tiny edge of teeth that you were soaring, choking on a whimper as it bubbled within the back of your throat.

Your body was screaming for release, orgasm beginning to mount and build as white-hot tension flew through you, consuming you like a tidal wave. Paul could sense it, burying himself in your pretty cunt as if it would be the last meal he’d ever have.

He switched between the eager, broad lapping of his tongue with sucking on your clit, making you claw at his shoulder blade. One hand repositioned itself, splayed out across your pelvis as his thumb slipped to the hood of your cunt, playing with your clit as the rest of his mouth lapped elsewhere.

“Paul, Paul,” Paul. It was the only word that rolled from your tongue, doing very little to mask the sound of your pleasure. With a wanton moan, you felt that hot coil of tension within your stomach begin to unfurl as you steadily reached your climax. You were suffocating him between your legs — conveniently, he didn’t need to breathe. “Fuck, Paul! M’close!”

“Cum for me,” His encouragement was all that you needed, that little push forward as he backed off, peppering kisses against your clit as you came. It was blinding, and you swore you saw stars. “That’s it,” Paul crooned, moving to clean you up. “Atta girl, baby.” He did very little to mask his eagerness in lapping up the remnants of your orgasm.

He wiped at his lips with the back of his hand, kissing his way up your body until his mouth connected with yours. You could taste yourself and the somewhat bitter twang of copper within his saliva as you let your tongue slip into his mouth. Paul groaned, grabbing at your haunches as he moved to lay beside you.

“Are you tired?” You mused, your own chest heaving with exhilarated sighs as Paul effortlessly wrangled you closer, eyes glittering with desire. You were wrong to ask that question as he raised his eyebrows.

“What kinda question is that, baby? You’re getting on top,” Paul smirked, gesturing toward his lap. His erection was practically itching for release, straining against the front of his white jeans. “You’re going for a ride.” He purred, snatching at your hips as he hoisted you on top of his lap, letting you get comfortable.

Paul lounged against the mountain of pillows beneath him, hands splayed out atop your waist. You savored the sensation of his rings biting into your flesh, and you immediately scrambled to unzip his pants, wrestling with his belt as you freed his cock. His hardened length fell against your stomach, tip oozing with a bead of precum.

You shivered, gazing down at your vampiric paramour, who stared at you with those vibrant, cerulean hues — as clear as a summer’s day. Paul tilted forward, lips reaching for yours as he planted a rather lazy, messy kiss against your mouth. “M’ready.” You murmured, feeling him lift you up as if you weighed nothing at all.

With bated breath, you felt your insides turn to mush, reigniting the spark of lust as Paul let you sink onto his cock. A fire burned bright within your belly, demanding to be extinguished as Paul’s head fell back slightly, letting out a series of groans and softer grunts. “Fuck,” He growled, feeling your palms rest against his abdomen. “You’re so fucking tight, babe.”

Liquid heat festered within the pit of your stomach as you gasped, cunt clenching around his cock as you adjusted yourself. “Paul!” You moaned, attempting to stifle the many noises you made with the back of your palm, but he quickly swatted your hand away. He was bigger than you thought he’d be — a pleasant surprise.

“Wanna hear you scream my name.” Paul huffed, rubbing circles into your hips as he began to move you. Superhuman strength and stamina certainly had roles to play in this as he guided you up and down in short, rhythmic movements. You liked that he manhandled you a little bit, one hand on your waist as the other grabbed at your chest.

A simpering moan left you as he guided you up his cock, stopping halfway before easing you back down again. Lewd noises reverberated throughout the alcove, accompanied by your sweet whimpers and his grunts and groans. You were barely given time to get used to his pattern before he was bucking up into you with the indomitable strength of a god.

There was no opportunity for you to catch your breath, watching as Paul snatched your wrists, redirecting them towards his pretty neck. That surprised you, but you didn’t protest, feeling the taut muscle tense underneath your palms, jugular bobbing as you began to squeeze.

He moaned.

Unable to bite back the smile that stretched across your features, you held onto his neck, digits flexing and tensing as you continued to apply pressure. Paul’s head fell backwards just a little bit, steadying you with one hand as he fucked into you at an erratic pace. Flesh clashed against flesh, causing you to whimper as you rolled up and down along his cock.

“You like that?” You whispered through a string of blissful whines, gaze bright with desire as he nodded several times over. “Your cock feels so good, Paul.” You huffed, teeth snagging across your lower lip as you began to let your thumbs trace along his perfect jawline. His weeks-old stubble scratched at your silken flesh.

“Little harder, girl,” Paul encouraged, wanting you to really wrangle his throat. He didn’t need to breathe anyway — that made it all the more enjoyable. He savored your hesitation — his sweet little human, afraid of harming the big, bad vampire. He smirked, lifting his eyebrows. “C’mon baby, squeeze.”

Fuck — he was going to be the death of you. Your cunt clenched and throbbed around his cock, with Paul continuing to jackhammer into you like a wild animal. Grunts and excitable groans left him in droves, rippling through his chest as you squeezed at his throat. The muscles were thick and tense underneath your small palms, slick with perspiration.

Your flesh felt dewy, especially within the oppressive heat of the cave. Paul was unstoppable, a force of nature as his hips continued to buck up, cock slamming into your poor, tight cunt. He wasn’t gentle, and he showed no signs of stopping. Delivering a sharp smack to your ass, he fillee you to the brim with his length, causing you to really grip his throat.

With a needy whimper, your eyes fluttered shut, lips parted in a state of ecstasy. “Paul,” You moaned, feeling his hand greedily knead into your chest, twisting your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The stimulation was intensified tenfold, making your brain go fuzzy as he fucked you into a stupor. “Holy shit!”

The alcove smelled of sex — sloppy rutting that was steadily devolving into a complete mess. Paul’s precum was slathered across your inner thighs, coupled with the slick remnants of your first orgasm and current state of arousal. He stopped his erratic thrusting, sitting up a little more with one hand on your hips.

Without warning, his mouth went straight to your chest again, lips attaching themselves around one of your swollen nipples. He was sucking, grabbing a handful of your ass as he led you up and down along his cock. The warmth of your flesh intermingled with his cool, icy skin, only serving to make you sweat.

“Touch me,” You whimpered, palms still clinging to either side of his throat, nails digging in toward the nape of his neck. The sex was incredible — you’d never been fucked like this before, but he had you chasing after every sensation. “Paul, please.” Heat crawled across your flesh, leaving you drunk with desire.

Paul playfully scraped his teeth across your breast, teasing your nipple. “M’touching you already, baby.” He mumbled, propping himself up with his other hand. A simpering groan escaped you as you rocked forward, taking one hand off of his throat to play with your clit.

An impish snarl left his mouth as he snatched at your wrist, and in one erratic movement, had you pinned down on your back. His cock throbbed inside of you, desperate for a release just as much as you were. Paul cackled, lips twitching into a sneer as he began to fuck you, enough for the foundation of the mattress to rattle underneath.

“That was bad,” Paul purred, fucking you down into the plush surface, nearly pulling his cock out of your slick cunt before slamming right back in, repeating the movement over and over again. Fortunately, he was feeling generous, slipping one hand between your bodies as he found the cleft between your thighs. “Fuck, you’re soaked.” He groaned.

You clutched onto him for dear life, body responding vehemently to Paul’s erratic thrusts and uneven, primal tempo. With a loud, wanton cry, your mouth clamored to find his lips, meeting in a rather noisy clash of teeth and tongue. He circled your clit with his thumb, rutting into you with a fervor.

“Paul!” You whined, locking a leg around his hips as your nails sank into his shoulders, leaving behind angry-red impressions, embedded within his flesh. Paul encouraged your scratching, tongue lapping at the inside of your mouth. A white-hot ecstasy consumed you whole, causing you to shudder and spasm.

“Can’t hear you, baby.” Paul teased, biting at your lower lip as he peppered kisses wherever he could — greedy, wet kisses that ended up being vibrantly-colored hickeys. Your flesh was his canvas as he marked you up wherever he pleased, hyperfocused on your chest again. “You close?” He huffed, fingers tearing into the sheets.

It was exhilarating — you swore you saw stars, perhaps more as he fucked you within an inch of your life. You didn’t want him to be careful. You didn’t want him to treat you like glass — you wanted to belong to him. “M’close,” Another string of sweet, noisy moans escaped you as Paul brazenly bit at your left breast, leaving behind a crescent-shaped mark. “Close.”

Rivulets of crimson trickled across your skin, prompting Paul to lick it all away, irises shifting from cerulean to a burnished gold. It made the sex more intense as he pounded away at your poor cunt, which had certainly been pushed to the limit. He was becoming a little squirrelly, panting and growling into your ear.

Paul kissed you to distract himself from the temptation of feeding, lost within the saccharine bliss of your mouth as he felt you cum around his cock. “Yeah, baby. Go ‘head and cum for me, just like that.” He mumbled against your mouth, tongue lazily sweeping across your lower lip as he tensed and thrust forward.

He came right afterwards, reveling in the sight of you trembling and quivering, juices coating his length as he pulled out halfway through. It was messy and rather disgusting, but you didn’t care. Ropes of hot, white seed painted your stomach and breasts, which was some sort of fantasy for him.

You sighed, barely able to string a sentence together as you fell back against the mattress, coated in perspiration and his cum. “Jesus.” You uttered, pressing a palm over your face as Paul rolled over to lay next to you. Your legs twitched and spasmed as you came down from your climax, feeling something soft fall across your abdomen.

It was a rather unappealing-looking towel that seemed much too ancient, and you wondered how many times this had been used to clean up his mess. With a huff of laughter, you cleaned yourself up, feeling his arms tangle around you, urging you to come back to him.

“Makes you wish you’d taken me seriously sooner, huh?” Paul mumbled, nibbling along the shell of your ear. You couldn’t help but feel smitten afterwards, twisting over until you faced your vampiric paramour, who had the expression of the Cheshire Cat.

“You’re ridiculous,” You mused, holding his face between your palms. “You’re gorgeous, too.” A peculiar softness crept into your voice, prompting Paul to shower you in a cascade of needy kisses. He liked to be close, which you didn’t necessarily mind, despite the newfound scent of post-sex that permeated the alcove.

“I’m all yours, baby.” Paul smirked, shamelessly staring at your breasts without an ounce of subtlety. You couldn’t read his thoughts, but you suspected that he had something particular in-mind. “You’re in for a long night.” He purred, and before you could open your mouth to speak, he was crawling on top of you.

You would have to thank Marko later.

[sleepynovalunosis]

contains: afab!reader, hickeys, posessiveness

thinking of eric draven, who's pulled you into his lap, large hands combing through your hair as his fingers travel up the nape of your neck. he tugs at your locks gently, and you instinctively lull your head back with a soft gasp, like putty in his hands.

his hair is still dripping from the rain outside, as is yours, and he soaks up every drop of it that falls from your hair onto his palms. his lips latch to your neck, taking his time with you as he holds you in place. he's gentle, and he'd never hurt you. he knows just how to guide you to let him touch you, because he knows it's what you want.

what you both want.

he starts at your collarbone, trailing upwards as he leaves soft, open-mouthed kisses along your flesh. you shift your weight as you feel the warmth of his mouth, his tongue trailing behind. "eric," you breathe, clit throbbing as he works his mouth on you. he only hums curiously in response, though he knows exactly what you'll say.

"teasing," you protest.

"taking my time with you." he retorts.

his words alone make your stomach flip, feeling the all too familiar drop as he works up to the shell of your ear. his makeup is smudged, leaving a streak of grey paint in his trail. your cheeks start to flush not only with warmth, but the way that he perceives you.

ever since he came back from the dead, he's sworn to make every second with you count; finding every little thing that makes you tick, everything that makes you gasp, moan his name-

"'ve missed you," he mumbles against your flesh, nipping at your neck gently before soothing it with his tongue. "so badly, honey."

you cling to him, now draping your arms over his shoulders, placing one of your hands on the back of his head as you tug him into your frame. "closer," you beg, and he obliges, pulling you tightly into his chest. you feel his kisses grow harsher, sucking at the crook of your neck, earning soft pants and whines from you. he pulls you even harder into him, and you can swear he growls beneath you.

he needs you like air-it's a primal urge he's never felt until now. he damn sure came close while he was alive, but this is something no man could ever experience. only those who'd escaped death.

you can feel the bruises forming in your neck, and your brain goes fuzzy with lust. you can't think straight, and you don't want to. you know eric will keep you safe. his grip hasn't loosened on you one bit, and you feel like he's holding you as if it's the last time.

but it never will be.

never again.

[coryosbaby]

18+, MDNI !! ⊹ ‧₊˚

Thinkin’ of losing your virginity to Thomas Hewitt <3 sprawled out on his bed, nothing but a red gingham top on as you present yourself to him with spread legs. Nervously batting your eyelashes as he appears transfixed on your little cunt. Your fingers are on either side of your pussy lips, spreading open your hole so Tommy can see how sticky you are. You had fingered yourself previously, using a bottle of lubricant to get yourself nice and wet.

“‘M… my hole’s really small, I think. But that’s okay. It gets bigger! See?”

Spreading it wide, trying not to wince at the stretch even that causes you, as Tommy begins to drop his shirt and pants with a loud grunt. His demeanor may be calm, but the flush of his cheeks gives him away— he’s a virgin too, after all!

When he gets his tip up against your little virgin snatch, thick and meaty, your bottom lip pulls into a pout as you let tears fall. Happy tears, you think, and also tears of desperation. You need him more than you need air.

Tommy, ever the gentleman, pulls away to look into your eyes with a questioning stare. You smile at him, fingers going up to his hair so you can push a few strands out of his face. He doesn’t flinch. He trusts you more than he trusts himself.

“It’s okay, Tommy,” you murmur. Your hand moves in between your legs to grasp his drooling length. You press it up in between your folds again. “Fuck me. Please?”

He can’t say no to that. Slowly, he presses into your fluttering heat, mushroomed tip popping through your entrance. Your nose scrunches, a burn beginning to take over your nether regions as he continues to push in. It isn’t as bad as you expected, given his size. Your wetness drips down your thighs and then some, and for that you’re thankful. Tommy’s hands go to either side of your head for purchase, big shoulders splaying out over your much smaller form.

Oh, Tommy. He’s letting out the loudest moans, burying his masked face into your neck as he makes it halfway inside. Poor baby is shaking :( but so are you, given the way he stretches you so obscenely. Your hands move to his back so you can hold him closer, feel him closer, move him closer. When he pushes through that thin little film inside you, blood coating his cock, you’ve never felt more alive.

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[venus-haze]

Damned If You Do (Bo Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: You're almost certain Bo's getting tired of you. You're not so sure how much longer you can prevent the inevitable, but a slip of the tongue in a moment of desperation proves to be your salvation.

Note: Female reader but no other descriptors are used. I missed writing for Bo! I might be kinda rusty, but I hope y’all like it🖤 Please read the warnings before reading. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Canon typical violence. Prolonged captivity and isolation. Stockholm syndrome (some basement wife elements). Mentions of past torture. Extremely dubious consent. Sexually explicit content involving vaginal fingering, sadism, degradation, choking, knife play.

You were sure Ambrose was gonna kill you if he didn’t first. The damp, dead air permeated the basement walls, filtered in thick through the vent in the ceiling and filled your lungs with each breath. It would choke you once summer settled in, foul and unforgiving. Almost as unforgiving as him, whose presence inspired fear and loathing in you. Lately, however, the lack of it brought a foreboding sense of dread over you as your isolated mind raced to its logical conclusion.

Bo was getting tired of you.

One cursory glance at the state of your body made you panic—bruises fading, cuts and cigarette burns scarring over without fresh marks to replace them. For the first week or so you were there, every part of your body pulsed with pain. He found your limits with the efficacy of a bloodhound and brutally forced you past each one. 

All you felt then was dull aching, kinda hungry, too. Didn’t bode well for your long-term survival.

You shifted on the old, lumpy mattress on the floor, stained with blood, sweat, and cum that reeked with the breakdown of others’ bodily fluids. Probably the girls in the Polaroids all over the walls. He’d taken a few of you since you’d been down there. Hadn’t done that recently, either. Mostly came down there to feed you, take you upstairs to use the gas station bathroom, bring you back downstairs to throw you around a little and fuck you, and then leave. Shit. You were becoming a chore.

Bo had plenty of chores around Ambrose already. Would grumble about them to you, the closest he ever got to pillowtalk. The movie theater, the church, even the houses were his responsibility. You weren’t quite sure why, less able to clearly picture the town you’d driven into the longer you spent as Bo’s captive. There weren’t any immediate red flags that popped out at you. After all, you’d driven straight to the gas station on your blown out tire. Didn’t take the time to do any sight-seeing. He made sure of that. From what you’d gathered from Bo, the only living souls in town were he and Vincent, with the recent and temporary addition of yourself.

The floor creaked above you, and you pulled your knees to your chest, anticipating his arrival downstairs. It was almost impossible to tell what mood he’d be in whenever he’d pay you a visit. Tried listening for the sound of his footsteps, the way his boots pounded against the linoleum above to the cement stairs to where you waited for him, as if you could do much else. There was the TV, but the glimpse into the outside world left you feeling especially helpless when your own face flashed across the screen on the 6 o’clock news not long after you became captive in Ambrose. Then after a week or so, all mention of you stopped. Seven days for you to be rotated out of the news cycle. They’d gotten tired of you long before Bo did.

You screwed your eyes shut, as he ambled down the stairs, racking your brain for what to do. Opened them just as quickly to give him your undivided attention, just how he liked. Panicked and hopeless, you blurted out upon seeing his face, “You’re gonna kill me soon, aren’t you?”

He set the bottle of soda he’d undoubtedly brought down for you and smiled. Charming, disarming, like the one he first gave you when you naively drove into town on the roadkill guy’s advice—Lester. His name was Lester. Could he have known? Was he in on the whole thing? You hadn’t seen anyone but Bo for weeks, and he only made mention of Vincent, his brother, who you were certain had no interest in rescuing you from your plight.

“What makes you think that?” he asked.

‘Tire blew out,’ you had told Bo, feeling silly and self-conscious when he laughed. ‘I can see that.’ Threw a wink your way and assured you he’d have you back on the road before it got dark. You trusted him because he was handsome and laid on the compliments thick. Made you think maybe driving over that broken bottle in the road wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Within an hour he had you in that fucking basement.

“You—you’re bored of me,” you said. “You don’t come down here as often as you used to.”

“Aw, you miss me? Is that it?” he mocked.

Maybe. Maybe it was the security of knowing you were wanted, that the longer you kept his interest, the longer you’d be alive. Maybe even earn his trust enough to get a chance to escape back into the world that’d forgotten about you. But Bo wouldn’t forget. He’d keep you immortalized on those cinder block walls with all the others. Disgustingly sentimental. Part of you preferred being part of his shrine to his own depravity than a black and white photo people carelessly flipped past in the local paper.

“How are you gonna do it? Tell me,” you begged.

He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes at you as a grin spread across his face. “Well, I like to get that shit over with quick, but you might be worth slowing things down for.”

“Like—like how?”

As soon as he made his way toward you, regret filled your gut. You crawled backward on your hands, trying to put some distance between you until your back hit the wall. His hands were around your neck, his hungry eyes drinking in your distress.

“If you were most girls, I would just keep squeezing until you stop breathing,” he said, squeezing harder. “Pretty clean.” Black spots filled your vision as you fruitlessly tried clawing at his hands. “Makes it easier for Vincent to get to work on you that way.” He released your throat, and you fought through the coughing fit that burned in your chest as you gasped for air. Tears streamed down your face, and you wanted to smack the smug expression off of his.

“But that ain’t always fun,” he said.

Bo stood up and kicked your legs apart with his boots. Grabbed something from the nearby tool cart. The fucking knife. You swore he kept the blade dull on purpose just so it’d hurt more, leave nastier scars behind in its wake whenever he dug it into your skin, dragging it through your flesh with horrifying precision that only came from experience, because you never needed stitches.

“For you, I think I’d be a little more personal.”

He straddled you, sitting on your legs so you couldn’t possibly move them in an attempt to escape or defend yourself. You could feel his hard-on straining against his jeans, pressing into your bare pussy as he leaned over you, knife shining menacingly in the buzzing fluorescent light overhead. He made rags of your clothes not long after you became his and never offered any replacement.

The blade pressed against the middle of your chest, right between your breasts, making you shudder. He licked his lips. “I could shove this knife on in there, open you up all the way down to your cunt.” His fingers brushed your clit. “‘Beauty’s only skin deep’, that’s what my mama used to say. But sluts like you all look the same on the inside. Crack open your ribcage, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you from all the rest.”

You whimpered as he dragged the blade down your abdomen with a deceptive gentleness, his fingers still working your clit, making it hard for you not to jerk your hips, risking a slip of the knife directly into your belly. 

When he lifted the knife, you couldn’t even let yourself feel relief as your eyes followed it to one of your wrists. 

“Could take it nice and slow. Let you bleed out,” he pressed it against your skin, dangerously close to a vein. “It’d take hours for you to die, then. Messy as hell, too, but we could get up to some fun, you and me. A good fuck for ol’ times’ sake, then I can sit back with some popcorn while I watch the lights go out in those pretty eyes of yours.”

You let out a shaky breath, fear and arousal mixing with your lingering lack of oxygen so you could only half-grasp what exactly he was saying, just that he had a knife to your wrist, and he was enough of a homicidal monster to kill you that way. He slid his fingers inside you, and you could feel your orgasm creeping up on you, your head heavy and fuzzy as he kept going. 

“But if we’re talking easy and personal, then I’d just—” He brought the blade up to your throat until you could feel your rapid pulse beating against it. 

Bo curled his fingers, pleasure tearing through you as you jolted in place, feeling the cool metal superficially pierce your skin. 

Your voice came out as a strangled sob. “Please, Bo. Please don’t—” 

He kissed you, an undertone of fondness in the gesture that filled you with relief and terror. “You won’t have to worry about any of that for a long while,” he said, his voice low, reverberating through your aching bones. “I’m not finished with you yet. Not even close.”

[small-sinclair]

Smut below. Never written smut so be nice—

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader

⚠️NSFW 18+ ONLY⚠️

Okay but—

Bo telling you how much he doesn’t deserve you, whispering it against you ear, as he thrusts hard and rough, tender and lustful, deep inside you. He knows he’s the worst and he knows he’s a monster; he doesn’t deserve you.

His rough hands by your head as he takes the pace painfully slow, rutting fast, then slow again. He kisses your neck then your shoulder. His heart hammers at your whimpers and moans. He doesn’t want to be near your, but he wants to be beside you. He can’t imagine himself without you in his life anymore.

“‘M no good, no good,” he breathes heavily as his pace quickens. His hands hold your wrists above your head as he angles himself to hit your g-spot better, the spot that makes you unravel like yarn. “God, you deserve better… so-so much better. To-fuck— to perfect for me.”

He watches your eyes roll back as you come close to your fourth or fifth climax, but he won’t stop because he’s too lost in his own need. Sometimes, he’s scared of himself when he’s lost like this because he doesn’t want to hurt you too bad, but the bruises he leaves behind on your thighs and kiss-stained mark on your neck does something to him.

His other hand roams up and down your body, feeling your chest and sides. Marble statues are jealous of you. He leans down and kisses hard and long, taking your lips in like it’s the last water in the world. He loves the way you call his name and kiss his skin. He goes faster and faster, lifting you up as he does and uses you as a fuck-toy. He holds your back and supports your head as he hears your pleas to slow down but he can’t, he won’t. His eyes burning with flames that were never blown out. He feels how you clinch and how you squirms as he chases his high.

“Never been good for your body. Never-never been good for your hands,” he grunted as he feels your hands around his neck for support. “Never been good for your love. No good for you! You’re too-too perfect. Too innocent and pure-pure for me.” His hips rolling into yours. “Fuckin’ perfect. Too perfect for me.” He bites your shoulder as he slams himself in you unapologetically. He tastes your blood and can feel your heart in his teeth and it makes his eyes roll. “I don’t deserve-deserve your fuckin’ pussy. Don’t deserve how tight it is— shit. I don’t deserve you.”

With one last hard thrust, he feels your walls clinch around him. He hears you moan out his name like a prayer to an elder god, but he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve your voice saying his name like that.

He comes closer to you as he pushes his seed deep inside your body, feeling it mix with yours. Slowly, he lays your body back down into the mangled sheets and kisses the bite marks he left behind. He breathes deeply out and shivers when he breathes in. His callous hands run over your skin as he lets go of you. He doesn’t want your hands over him but he craves it like a drug.

“No… shit, no good for you,” he repeats as he rests his head against yours. “Someone’s better than me.” He leans into your hand and he marvel that if feels like the finest silk. “Fuck, I love you.”

He’ll slowly pull out once he feels your body relax into the blankets and pillows under you. Bo’s not one for aftercare, but his hands smooth your legs and sides, kissing the handprint bruise on your hips. And you see his body in the dim moonlight, and you can see his scars from the past and from the fights. You see how tired his eyes are and how much he’s love struck with you.

As he climbs out of bed, your hand catches his and he kisses your knocks before letting go. Hes right back with a cold wash rag and some lotion. He kisses your body tired until your numb from his love. He washes your body and sings praises to you, calling you his, calling you perfect, calling you darling. He lotions your legs, arms, and throat, and he’s being so gentle with you. When he’s done, you rust on his chest and trace his scars.

“…if you keep lovin’ me like this,” he says in a husky voice, “I’ll never let you go… never let you leave me.” He’ll look down at you then kiss your head. “Never leave me.”

You’re too tired to answer as you rest your head over his heart. You belong here in his arms and he’ll never let you go. Not for a second.

[dolliestfairy]

𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎 𝐵𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑀𝑎𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛 ཐིiཋྀ ་ ݁٬ ࣪ ،

billy loomis, stu macher, carrie white, and jennifer check falling in love with beautiful!fem!reader ཐི (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ཋྀ

when i said beautiful!fem!reader, i really do meant it. it was you. this time i didnt tell what your size is. skinny, chubby, curvy, whatever, you're beautiful. and yes, reader skin color is not announced.

♫ Warning : mentions of killing in public, bullying, massacre, jennifer think of you as a rival (at first) and maybe some misspelled word, pet names (Muffin, Moon Of My Life, Sweet Cheeks) lmk if i miss anything.

☾ Billy loomis

• first time he had laid his eyes on you he cant help but falling in love immediately.

• how could he not?! you're just so ethereal and beautiful.. too beautiful for this messed up world.

• he really adore the shape of your body. he does not care what your size or what your skin color is. small, medium, large, extra large, white, black, he doesnt care. he still love you.

• if someone talks bad about you, you best believe they're gonna be the next victim and they're gonna popped out in the news all over the town one week later.

• he also have a petname for you. he sometimes called you "Muffin" but if he's really in the mood or if he's just like being a gentleman for absolute no reason, he's gonna call you "Moon of my Life".

• really adores you. and always determined to keep you as his and his alone. he doesnt like sharing. so this man is kinda possessive over you.

• i mean he doesnt want to lose the Moon of his life so he had to keep you safe. if theres someone that have a plan to keep you away from him, they're gonna be dead in a second, it doesnt matter if he had to killed them in public where everyone could watch him with bare eyes, he's gonna show them what he would and can do if someone dared to take away the Moon of his Life.

☾ Stu Macher

• meet you at a party, in his house, periodt. he was chillin and drunk with his friend on a couch until his eyes snap at one of the gorgeous lady he'd ever seen which is you.

• he fell in love much faster than his buddies, and when fell, he fell HARD. so the second he sees you, he get his ass up the couch and immediately walking towards you, and what you gonna see is that you gonna see some lanky and tall man walking towards you with unconscious face while complimenting you.

• you think he's just drunk so you wouldnt mind him.

• but oh.. you were wrong. the morning where the party was over and he was all sleeping in the couch, after we woke up he kinda blank off a bit, and he sees the mess in his house from the night party. but the second he remembered the party he also remember you, the lovely lady he was compliment on.

• he suddenly feel his cheeks hotter while imagining about you, he can feel his heart fluttering as well so he want to see you again.

• luckily for him, you were actually in the same school with him. and you are practically a new kid.

• he's determined to be your first friend in this school, so he just go straight to you and introduce himself with his goofy attitude.

• he also apologize about the night party about him being so unconscious but he assure you that he can still remember you so thats why he's really determined to have you.

• it didnt take long for him to confess his feelings for you.

• he's over the moon when you accept him. he felt like he was the luckiest guy in the world.

• he promise you and the stars that he would keep you safe and comfortable around him, he would never let anything hurt you. and if it does, then they have to face the horrifying side about Stu Macher.

• and i'm telling you, it is not pleasureable to see it.

☾ Carrie white

• first she met you at the bathroom she thinks she's gonna get bullied from you, but instead, you were asking is she was okay. in which she nodd.

• she sees you walk out of the bathroom after asking her. she cant help but have some weird feelings about you.

• she never see anyone would ask her if she was okay, well not anyone as beautiful as you. so you can say that this girl was confused yet shock by your questioning.

• her romantic feelings start when she was bullied by some cheerleader group. she witnessing the fact that you were protecting her, stood up for her.

• after the bullies left, she look at you and ask why you were helping her in which you replied "do i really need a reason to help innocent people?"

• you were special, says carrie to herself, she cant believe someone as pretty as you would want to protect her from the bullies alone.

• later on at the prom she notice that you were not there at the prom.

• and when the prom hell incident is happening, and after she murder everyone including her mother, her first instinct was to find you.

• she quickly discovered where you live, she knock the bell at your door house and when you open it, you were getting a sudden hug from a crying carrie.

• you notice her bloody appereance so you take her inside and cleaning her. she hug you one more time before going to bed and say "i wouldnt forgive myself if i lose you."

• and you know she really mean it.

☾ Jennifer Check

• first time she met you, she thinks you're gonna be her rival because the amount of beauty you had in you.

• she cant help but feel a little bit of envy at that time (although she would rather die than admitting the fact that she was envy).

• so thats why at first she seems like she dislike you and she does. you at that time notice her disliking towards you so you ask about it to her.

• she just said to you that it doesnt matter and its not important to talk about.

• but her disliking towards you are kind of reduce after you try to explain to her gently that you dont have any bad intention about being her rival or enemy.

• you ask her if you both can be friends in which she rolled her eyes and say "yeah, whatever."

• and after being friends with you, she then know what kind of girl you are and thats where the romantic feelings start appearing.

• she sees your good heart and your strong willing along with your beautiful appereance, and that is making her love you even more.

• until at that time she ask you to go a Mall to shop clothes and stuff, and when you guys on a restaurant, she ask you out on a date

• and this lady was so happy when you accept it. she plans the most beautiful date she could ever imagine in her head.

• and it was going on perfectly. and at that time also she grab your palm hand and said "i really love to have you, sweet cheeks." while smiling at you.

• but one thing is that, she also kind of worry about the fact that she was a succubus. so thats why she tried to play her role as smooth as possible. she needs you to trust her enough that you will be loyal even if you find out that she eats Mankind.

• but overall, beside the bad side of her, she really does love you.

[sl4sh3rs]

Slasher’s reaction to their S/O being Goth🦇 || Slashers x fem! reader

꒰ ୨୧ Slashers include: Charles Lee Ray/Chucky, Tiffany Valentine, Freddy Krueger, Amanda Young

꒰ ୨୧ Warnings: hints of nsfw, no smut

—

Charles Lee Ray/Chucky: He absolutely loves you being goth, I mean adores it. He loves your style and the way you dress, he just doesn’t fully admit it. He hints at it, but never fully says it. He loves how mysterious you are, but also how gentle you are. When you guys first started dating, he would stay at your apartment a lot to hide from the cops. When he saw your apartment for the first time, he was intrigued. You being goth resulted in more affection and persuasion. If you have piercings (especially on your face/lips) he loves to feel them when you two make out. If you have long nails, he loves when they claw into his skin.

Tiffany Valentine: Very similar to Chucky, she just admits that she likes you being goth. You two love to share clothes and she loves seeing you in her outfits. She loves when you wear chokers, especially ones with spikes. If you have an interest in dolls, she is attracted to you even more. She loves to put makeup on you, and she’s let you pierce her a couple times. When you two first started going on dates, instead of her picking you up, or the other way around, she’d love to prep you and do your hair. She shows her love to you through actions. She loves you so much I can’t even explain it.

Freddy Krueger: You were walking through the halls of the boiler room when you first met. He appeared behind you and took a liking to your appearance. He liked your messy hair in that ponytail, he liked your piercings, your smeared makeup you forgot to take off the night prior, he immediately found a liking to you. He couldn’t kill you. One of his knives played with the bottom hem of your crop top.(imagine you’re wearing a crop top with a skull on it, and skull pajama pants) When you two officially started dating, he would get you little things he know you liked. He would either put them in the room he made for the two of you, or let you take them to the real world.

Amanda Young: You might’ve fell first, but she fell 10x HARDER. She loves to make things for you, it’s her love language. She’s made traps named after you, she’s made gifts for you. When she first made the pig mask, she let you put makeup and piercings on it. Actually for the robe she used some of your old clothes and sewed them together to make the robe. She’s just so adorable. She loves feeling your piercings when you kiss/touch her. She’s just a little hopeless romantic.

—————

tysm for reading! This is my first real Drabble and I think it turned out really well! If anyone wants to suggest anything feel free too!

[lilmoonbunny]

Crush; Bo Sinclair

Bo has a crush, but so does Lester.

Warnings: Jealous!Bo, swearing.

Bo Sinclair was an asshole, anyone who knew him knew this fact, however, there was a side of him – albeit rare – that could be kind and loving, although, there was only one person who he deemed worthy of this side.

Y/N was everything that Bo was not: sweet, kind, caring, and loving. She was any man’s dream. Perhaps this was why Lester craved her, much to Bo’s dismay.

Whilst Bo’s initial craving for her was lust, it soon transformed into genuine feelings, something which terrified him. He didn’t believe that he could love, nor did he think he was worthy of being loved.

“Bo,” Y/N whined, capturing the mechanics attention as he lay beneath a truck. She watched as the man rolled out to look at her, oil clinging to his face.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I’m bored,”

With a roll of his eyes, Bo pushed himself back underneath the truck, turning his attention back to the job at hand. He enjoyed her company he truly did, but there were times when he couldn’t stand to be around her. It was nothing personal, he just didn’t know how to control himself.

The revealing clothes that she was wearing in the summer heat left little to the imagination and Bo almost wished he could take a picture of her, capturing her in all her glory, not that he would ever admit he saw her that way to anybody besides himself; he often struggled to admit it to himself.

He could feel her eyes on him, although he didn’t know why she was so focused on him, but it made it hard to focus. What was supposed to be an easy job was suddenly made harder with her focus solely on him; he almost felt insecure. Almost.

Bo knew he was both attractive and charming, but when around her he couldn’t help but wonder if she saw him the same way. In fact, that was something he pondered often. She was Vincent’s friend, that was how he came to know her and how she ended up residing in Ambrose after a ‘complication’ with her previous partner.

He remembered the nights she spent crying whilst Vincent comforted her, both with hugs and pats on the head which Bo found odd as Vincent was not one for physical touch. Bo would never admit he was jealous, and besides, he wasn’t aware of his feelings then.

The feelings came rushing to him one night as he found her in the kitchen. She was making a coffee after giving up on sleep a little after her breakup. Tears stained her cheeks, be it from the bad memories or the breakup itself, and Bo couldn’t remember the last time he had cried or seen somebody cried; maybe it was Lester when they were younger, he wasn’t sure.

“Sorry,” she had apologised to him. “I’ll get out of your way.”

Bo hesitated for a moment, something that he wasn’t used to. Sure, he had talked to her a few times, but rarely alone. He wasn’t big on conversation with new people, let alone friends of Vincent.

“It’s fine, don’t worry ‘bout it.” Came his response, shocking them both.

“Are you sure?”

“Course, s’pose it’s your house too for now.”

Little did he know, she would become a permanent resident in the Sinclair household.

“Thank you, Bo,” she smiled sweetly at him, and despite the tears staining her cheeks, he found her beautiful. He knew in that moment that he wanted her in more than a sexual way.

“Why are you staring?” Bo asked from beneath the truck.

Y/N paused for a moment, mouth opening and closing as she struggled to form an answer. “Admiring the view, I guess.” She said with a shrug and Bo could feel his cheeks warming but he simply blamed it on the heat; ignorance is bliss, after all.

Never in his life had he thought he would feel this way and it was terrifying to say the least.

“Oh, hi, Lester!” Y/N grinned, unable to see how Bo’s eyebrows furrowed and a frown formed on his lips. “How are you?”

“I’m all right, Y/N/N. How’re ya?” Bo could hear the smile as Lester spoke and his frown grew.

Y/N’s attention turned from Bo to Lester, red dusting her cheeks from the summer air, and maybe because she was called out for staring.

“I’m good! Me and Bo are just working. Well, he’s working and I’m just sitting here.” A giggle fell from her lips and both the men’s hearts warmed.

As Lester and Y/N’s conversation continued, Bo found himself zoning out, anger forming in his chest. He hated them interacting, having known about Lester’s feelings for his ‘crush’ for a while now. Even if Lester wouldn’t admit it, Bo knew; he always knew.

Rolling out from beneath the truck, Bo spoke. “If you two want to carry on talking, can you do it somewhere else!?” He snapped, immediately regretting it upon seeing the way Y/N’s face dropped. He did debate apologising, but his ego was too big to do so.

She paused for a moment before lifting herself to her feet, silently nodding before walking away, Lester following like a lost puppy.

Bo’s anger continued to fester for the rest of the day, even as he entered the house, slamming the door behind him.

“Hi, Bo,” Y/N greeted him, but it went ignored as Bo removed his boots.

It was safe to assume that Bo was in one of his usual bad moods and Vincent had signed to her that it was best to ignore him when he got like this when she first came to stay. It was the unspoken rule of the house, so she turned her attention back to the television in front of her.

Bo, of course, was paying attention and seeing that Lester had left had his bad mood calming slightly, his tense shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. A quiet sigh of relief was next, although it went unheard by the woman that held his affections.

 “I see your little boyfriend left,” Bo broke the silence.

“Boyfriend?”

“Lester.”

“He’s not my boyfriend…?” It was safe to say that Y/N was confused.

“He seems quite smitten on you.”

“I don’t see him that way.”

Bo relaxed some more and this time it didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, nor did his dilated pupils. She wasn’t stupid, she knew what that meant.

As she stood up, a plan formed in her mind, but if she was wrong about this, she risked ruining everything, including their close friendship.

What is life without a little risk? She reasoned with herself.

Bo watched her as she moved closer, eventually standing in front of him and toying with the collar of his thin jacket, fixing it despite knowing that he would remove it soon.

“There is somebody I see that way, though,” she said, looking up at him with a coy smile that had Bo’s heart racing.

“Is that so?” He muttered, watching her closely.

“Yeah,” her smile grew, hands reaching out to grasp his face, taking it slowly and gently so that he could pull away at any time.

But he didn’t pull away, in fact, he couldn’t resist any longer and his face dived down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss.

She could taste a mix of cigarettes and beer on his lips, but it wasn’t something she minded; it was very Bo and she loved him for who he was, flaws and all.

Whilst her hands gently cupped his cheeks, Bo’s reached out to lightly grasp both her waist and the back of her neck as he continued to kiss her. It was something he didn’t want to pull away from. The sensation of her lips on his and his hands on her had his heart beating a million miles per minute and the feeling itself gave him a high better than any drug ever could.

When they separated, Y/N’s gaze turned downwards, a dark blush coating her cheeks.

“I didn’t know if that was a good idea,” she admitted. “I’m hoping it was.”

Bo paused for a moment, feeling as though he was unable to speak. “I think it was,” his voice was quiet yet filled with emotion which was unusual for the man. “As long as you liked it, then I think it was, at least.”

“I did like it,”

Bo smiled, and whilst it was a small smile, it was noticeable to her.

“So did I.”

[capybar00]

The Slut, Loser, Babygirl and Princess

featuring: billy lenz, brahms heelshire, gabriel may & vincent sinclair

based on my astute observation, it's definitely . . .

here are the blank ones because why not

sorry for not posting as much i've been very, very tired(tm), angeloposting soon.

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Hi dear,

I was wondering if you could write for creepy neighbor! Michael x fem! reader, where he finds her on social media and downloads her pics to jerk off to then gradually 2 months later he storms into her house at night and fucks her into the mattress, love your blog <3

a/n: i absolutely can write that! thank you so much for the request and i hope you like it <3

pairing: creepy neighbour!michael x fem!reader

warnings: stalking, home intrusion, unprotected sex, rough sex

word count: 1005

You were beautiful, that much Michael knew. Even as you were staggering up the front steps to your door, your coordination severely lacking, he thought you were the most beautiful person he'd seen in a while.

Something about you always made his cock twitch in his pants, a sensation he had long since forgotten, it had been so long.

He'd first noticed you a few months ago, stumbling up the front steps to your new house, with a heavy box in your arms. No one ever came near his house, so he was surprised to find that you had been the one to finally move in next door.

He thought he had finally gone mad, that the long stretches of silence he usually endured had finally corrupted his mind, destroyed his sanity.

But with each month that passed, it became apparent to him that you were in fact real, and you were living right next door.

As he watched you jam your keys into the door, he quickly unbuttoned his coveralls, wrapping his hand around his aching cock.

But unfortunately, your brief presence outside your door wasn't enough to satisfy him, so he found himself reaching for the phone he'd stolen, quickly bringing up the images he'd taken from your social media.

He found that he rather enjoyed the idea of being able to watch somebody by simply tapping a few buttons on a screen. It certainly saved him the energy of having to sneak around outside all the time. Now, he could just watch you from inside the walls of his own home.

He pulled up an image of you in a bikini, the sun warming your skin and your chest glistening. He imagined his hands on you, rough fingers slipping beneath the straps, pulling the material over your head.

He imagined your breasts. He imagined his hands, wandering over your body, dipping inside your panties, driving his cock into you...

He wanted to hear you scream. He wanted to feel your skin beneath his hands, his cock buried deep inside your pussy.

Once he came to the realisation that a simple image wouldn't be enough to satisfy him, he put the phone down, tucking his cock back into his pants and walking towards the door.

You were home alone tonight, he knew that, which meant he was free to pay you a visit, satiate his need for you.

He silently left his house, walking straight up the steps to your house, and he opened the door with ease, noting that you rarely remembered to lock your doors at night.

Luckily for you, Michael had no intention to actually harm you tonight. He only intended to finally live out his fantasy, to feel your skin against his as he fucked you.

You were halfway up the stairs when you suddenly heard something behind you, strong hands roughly gripping your hair, forcing you forwards.

"What the fuck?!" You screamed, struggling in his hold as he continued to shove you forwards, barely even flinching as you thrashed around. "Let me go!"

It only took mere minutes to reach your bedroom, and he released his hold on your hair, forcefully throwing you into your mattress. And that was when you saw his face, the signature white halloween mask that belonged to none other than Michael Myers.

You thought he was dead. Everyone did. Yet here he was, standing over you as you laid there helpless.

"Michael?" You breathed out, staring up at him in shock. "Is that really you?"

He offered you no response, simply standing there motionless, his muffled breathing filling the silence.

"Michael─"

Before you were able to say anything else, he was closing in on you, his hands quickly finding the waistband of your shorts, effortlessly tugging the material from your body.

You probably should've struggled, attempted to fight him off in some way, but you could only lay there as he pushed your shirt up your body, revealing your tits to him.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. You also hadn't expected to be so turned on by it.

You gasped when you felt his hands on your tits, the heat growing between your legs becoming uncomfortable.

"Michael," you whined. "Please, fuck me."

That was all the encouragement he needed to finally take his cock out, wasting no time in pushing into you, a muffled groan falling from his lips when he heard you cry out.

His hands were still roughly gripping your tits as he thrusted into you at a bruising pace, revelling in the sounds that he was pulling from your throat, and the near violent slapping of skin that filled the small bedroom.

You let out something short of a scream as he fucked you into the bed, the pressure building in your stomach becoming almost too much to bear.

"Oh, fuck! Shit!" You hissed, desperately clawing at the bed sheets.

Michael didn't let up, curling his hands around your waist as he continued to thrust into you relentlessly.

He loved the way you were squirming beneath him, trying to get away, to relieve yourself of the pressure.

And it wasn't long until you felt the sting of tears in your eyes, your body aching as he continued to pound into you.

"Michael," you breathed. "Oh God!"

The fire that had been building inside you finally exploded, a shock of pleasure coursing through you as you continued to cry out, your vision becoming blurred.

Michael continued to fuck you through your orgasm, your body becoming limp as he slapped up against you. And it only took one last pathetic moan from you for his hips to stutter, pleasure crashing over his own body now as he spilled into you, a muffled groan pushing past his lips.

Once he was finished, he pulled out of you, leaving you to watch as he tucked himself away, quickly doing up his coveralls before turning and walking out of your door.

Michael would definitely be doing this again.

[Main Masterlist]

[floralcyanide]

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 ✲ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

Virgin!Charlie Walker x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

You go to your friend's party not expecting much from it. Except, while there, you run into Charlie, a guy you've known all your life but have never got to know. One of his secrets is revealed, much to his embarrassment. You go to comfort him, and one thing leads to another. (both Charlie and reader are 18+.)

warnings: smut, nsfw, loss of virginity, mentions of virginity, penetration (p in v), unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), nipple/breast play, hair pulling, overstimulation, mentions of alcohol, drinking alcohol, reader is kinda experienced but just barely, afab!reader, descriptions of female anatomy, Charlie and reader are 18+

word count: 4890 (I'm,,,, yeah)

author's note: hello I cannot believe I typed most of this out today. I was possessed by the writing demon fr. I also can't believe it's as long as it is but ya know,,, I gotta give y'all the Charlie smut you wanted. so here it is. if you enjoy, please reblog/ like (:

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

Playing truth or dare wasn’t on your list of things to do tonight at this party, but it may as well happen. 

You’re sitting criss cross on the floor of the living room, your back pressed against the front of the couch. Your best friend decided throwing one of their iconic parties before Spring Break would be fun, and they begged you to attend. And, of course, you couldn’t say no to them. So here you are in their living room with a Smirnoff Ice in your hand, waiting for someone to spin the bottle on the floor again. It only landed on you twice, and you picked truth both times. The questions were relatively tame, but the drunker everyone in the circle got and the more people who joined, the rowdier it got. You notice a guy you went to primary school with sitting across from you, with his forearm casually resting on his knee as he sips a beer with his free hand. He pretended to be looking elsewhere whenever a sexual question was brought up. Good old Charlie, the quiet and polite kid who was always good at math and oddly enough, film class. You two had been in school together since Kindergarten, and now you’re in university together and have yet to really talk. Sure, you’ve run into him at some places or have seen him around campus, chatting with him here and there, but nothing has ever broken the surface. You’ve yet to have a meaningful conversation with him. Both of you were partners in science class during your junior year of high school, but you weren’t close by any means. You push away your thoughts when you realize the bottle has now landed on you.

You take a large swig of your drink, “Oh boy.”

Luckily, your best friend is the one who spun the bottle. You hope whatever challenge or question they shoot at you will be tolerable. 

“Alright, Y/N. Truth or dare?”

“Hmm,” you think about this one momentarily and decide on a whim, “Dare.”

Your best friend eyes your still fairly full drink, “You just got iced! I dare you to chug the rest of your drink.”

Getting “iced” means if someone sees you holding a Smirnoff Ice, they can “ice” you by saying you have to chug the rest of your drink no matter how full it is. It’s a trend around campus, and it annoys you to no end as you drink Smirnoff Ice sometimes.

You roll your eyes and sigh, “Fine.”

Taking a deep breath, you begin chugging your drink. Thank god it’s your favorite flavor and not something stronger. Everyone is chanting for you to chug, and you do, trying not to laugh at how embarrassing it is to have all these people watching you. Some of the alcohol dribbles down your chin when you finish the rest of the bottle. The circle cheers, and the people next to you pat you on the back while everyone else gives a thumbs up. You feel a little rush to your head as you carefully place your hand on the bottle in the middle of the group, prepared to spin it. Once it lands, it lands on your other friend Kirby. You’re somewhat surprised she’s even playing truth or dare with you all, but you weren’t going to stop her.

“Truth or dare, Kirb?”

“Dare, of course,” Kirby smiles deviously, a little tipsy from whatever is in her solo cup.

“I dare you to kiss someone in the circle. It can be anyone,” you say after pondering for a moment.

It was a mild dare compared to some of the ones people have created in the group. Someone dared one girl to take off her shirt, and someone else dared your best friend to shotgun from the guy next to them. Now your best friend was buzzed on not only alcohol but some weed as well. So you’re somewhat shocked they didn’t choose a wilder dare for you to do.

Kirby looks surprised you’d choose a dare that consisted of anything intimate, but she shrugs it off before leaning toward Jill. You’re also surprised Jill is in the circle, but she claimed she just wanted to watch people embarrass themselves. Until the bottle landed on her for the first time, now, she’s slightly drunk and in the game. She and Kirby kiss for a few seconds, but you doubt it’s the first time they’ve done so. Kirby pulls away as some guys holler at the sight. She flips them off before spinning the bottle. This time, it lands on Charlie. A part of you fears for him because Kirby can be unpredictable.

“Truth or dare, Charlie?” Kirby asks, tapping her chin excitedly.

“Uh,” Charlie furrows his eyebrows, “Truth?”

Kirby grins like she had been hoping he’d choose truth, “When was the last time you got blown?”

“Blown?” Charlie asks, a little confused.

“Yeah. Blown. Like, a blowjob. When was the last time you got one of those, Charlie?” Kirby asks seriously, and everyone is paying close attention to what Charlie is about to say.

“Oh. I don’t know? I’ve never really,” Charlie clears his throat, “I’ve never really done anything like that.”

“Really?” Kirby asks, shocked, and a few people giggle.

“How about you ask a different question?” Charlie says, shifting around nervously.

“Okay. Are you a virgin?”

More people in the circle laugh, and everyone looks directly at Charlie, making his face go red as he curls into himself.

“That’s enough, Kirb,” you say gently, your eyes flickering between her and Charlie, “Maybe ask something not sexual in nature?”

“Right. Sorry,” Kirby cringes, but Charlie is already moving to get up from where he’s sitting.

You go to say something to him as he steps around you to walk to the kitchen, but he moves too fast.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “Kirby, I know you like making Charlie squirm, but that was uncalled for.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I didn’t know he was a virgin,” Kirby frowns, staring into her drink.

“Maybe you should apologize,” you say, “I’ll go talk to him first and make sure he’s okay.”

“That’s a good idea,” your best friend nods.

You stand up and try to collect yourself for a moment as the alcohol makes your head swim. That Smirnoff was your third tonight, and you can tell that chugging it was a bad idea. But your vision clears, and you begin to walk to the kitchen. There are a few people crowded in there, talking and drinking. But no sight of Charlie. You wander to the patio and spot him sitting on the porch swing outside. You quietly open the sliding door and shut it behind you, walking toward the swing. 

“Hey,” you say, almost inaudible as you sit down next to Charlie.

“Hi,” he says awkwardly, tucking hair behind his ear as his eyes burn into his thighs.

“Are you okay? Sometimes Kirby doesn’t know when to shut up,” you roll your eyes, shaking your head at your friend’s behavior.

“I’m fine. It’s just not something I wanted everyone to know,” Charlie chuckles lightly.

“I understand. If it helps, I didn’t lose my virginity in high school like everyone, either. But I’m glad I waited until adulthood if that makes sense,” you say, trying to relate to Charlie a little.

You were in your sophomore year of college when you had your first serious partner, which led to you, of course, having sex. You were about to be 21, and felt like you had waited forever by that point. But the peer pressure and movies made sex seem totally different from what it actually was. But you were glad that you waited until you were more mature. Not everyone does, and you think that’s okay, just as long as there was consent. 

“Really? You didn’t lose it in high school?” Charlie finally turns to you, his face twisted into confusion.

“I was about twenty on twenty-one. Not long ago, but yeah,” you shrug, pushing your legs so that the swing moves slightly backward, “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be- the sex stuff. Honestly it’s nothing like porn, tv, or the movies. It’s awkward and silly and sometimes uncomfortable.”

Charlie nods slowly, “What is like, then? For someone with female anatomy, anyway.”

“If you're, you know, prepared, it doesn’t hurt. It’s like a feeling of fullness and then when they find the g spot with their fingers or whatever, it’s even better,” you feel your face burning at the thought of it all.

“G spot?”

You dare to look Charlie in the eye, “Yeah it’s a spot inside the vagina that gives you pleasure when it’s caressed or pushed into,” you give him an awkward smile.

“Oh,” Charlie laughs, “Sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable or anything. I just don’t know much. I mean I know the basics, but,” he trails off, looking at your lips for a moment before tearing his eyes away.

“Basics, hmm?” you lean in toward Charlie, letting your knee touch his as you push the swing with your feet, moving it backward again, “What would those be?”

“Like where to touch someone kind of? I mean I’ve seen videos but none of that is real,” Charlie says, his face now slightly red.

The alcohol still burns in your veins, making your brain feel happily cloudy and a little braver than usual.

“And where would you touch someone?” you ask, now letting your thigh completely press against Charlie’s, your bodies now closer in proximity.

Charlie lets his shoulder touch yours, “Well, I know some people like being kissed on their ears,” he turns to you again, tucking some hair behind your ear softly.

“Yes,” you nod, slowly reaching your hand up to the ends of Charlie’s hair, “What about here, Charlie? Know anything about hair and what you can do with it?”

Charlie hesitates, “You can pull hair because some people like that.”

“Do you like it Charlie?” you look up and notice how close your faces are to one another, letting your eyes dart from his lips to his eyes.

“I don’t know, really. I feel like I would,” Charlie nods, trying his best not to stutter as he stares at your lips blatantly.

You let go of Charlie’s hair before sliding a cautious hand through his front bangs and letting your fingers root to his scalp. His breath hitches at the feeling of your touch.

“I feel like I definitely would,” Charlie repeats, clearing his throat as he lets his hand rest on your knee, “Is this okay?”

You chuckle, “Yes. Is it okay that I’m touching your hair?”

“Absolutely,” Charlie answers quickly.

“Do you want to see what it feels like to have it pulled a little?” you ask, your eyes landing on his lips once again.

They look so kissable and biteable. You always have thought Charlie was fairly cute, but never really gave it much thought or acted on it, until now. After all, you’re both a little tipsy and this is a college party you’re at. Why not have a little fun?

“Yes,” Charlie says, closing his eyes and letting his lips finally brush against yours.

You capture his lips with yours softly, lifting your free hand to rest upon Charlie’s jaw. His hand on your knee travels up your thigh until it’s on your hip, squeezing lightly as you deepen the kiss. Charlie places his other hand behind your head, pushing you closer to him as you run your tongue along his bottom lip. He lets you in, letting you take total control of the kiss. Charlie knows how to kiss, and he can kiss well, but he’d rather let you do whatever you wanted. If he’s honest, he would let you do anything to him, and he’s always felt this way. And that weird classmate crush he’s had on you is blossoming further with every second that passes as you kiss. 

Swirling your tongue around Charlie’s, you wait for the perfect moment to tug at his hair. The kiss is growing into a sloppy makeout and you can tell Charlie is getting turned on, You bite at his lip, tugging on it as he lets out a small moan. When he does this, you decide to pull on his hair a little, causing his moan to grow louder.

You pull away from the kiss, trying not to laugh, “Are you okay?”

“I’m- I’m fine,” Charlie whispers, his lips are swollen and red and his pupils are slightly larger than before.

“You sure?” you ask, your hand still on his face as your thumb traces along his jawline, “I know somewhere we can go that’s more private if no one is already in there.”

“Like where?” Charlie asks.

“My best friend has a guest room I usually camp out in when I stay over,” you say, standing up from the swing, offering a hand out to Charlie, “Care to join?”

Charlie looks at you, then your hand, before taking it, “Lead the way.” 

You hold his hand until you get to the sliding door, “I’ll go first, so watch which direction I head to when I get up the stairs. Then whenever you’re ready, come on up.”

“Okay,” Charlie nods, fighting a giddy smile.

“Is everything okay?” your best friend approaches you immediately once you and Charlie walk through the door.

“Yep. We’re all good,” you say.

“Most of the party is gone. You can stay here if you’d like,” your best friend says, looking between you and Charlie nonchalantly.

“Cool. I think I’ll head upstairs, then. Charlie and I are still talking, so,” you trail off, “Don’t mind us.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” your best friend winks.

“Yeah, that isn’t very much though,” you joke with them before dragging Charlie upstairs and not bothering to sneak him in.

Once both of you are upstairs and in the room, you shut the door and lock it before turning on the bedside lamp. Charlie sits on the bed, his hands clasped together nervously. You walk over to him, shedding your jacket and tossing it to the end of the bed. Standing directly in front of him, his knees touching yours, you card your hand through his hair again. Charlie’s eyes flutter shut and you climb onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“So do you like having your hair pulled now?” you ask, and Charlie looks so nervous that he’s gonna burst.

“Can you remind me of how it feels?” Charlie looks up at you, innocence flashing in his eyes.

You pull Charlie’s hair enough to where his head moves back, exposing his neck to you. He hums in content and you can’t help but start kissing along the side of his throat. You nip a little at his skin, running your tongue over the places you sink your teeth. Enough for him to feel it, but not enough to leave a mark. You squeeze your fingers into an open fist, pulling Charlie’s hair at a different angle. Just as he’s about to let out a noise, you move the top of his shirt down and bite down below his collarbone, sucking at the skin until it’s red. Charlie then lets out an actual moan, which makes your stomach turn. 

“Feel good?” you ask, moving your hand from his hair and to his hip, sliding it up his shirt.

“Yes,” Charlie sighs, “Very.”

“Do you want to keep going? We don’t have to if you don’t want-”

“I do. I want to keep going.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret your first time,” you say.

“I won’t regret it, especially if it’s with you,” Charlie blushes.

A smile grows on your face, “Really? And you aren’t saying that just to get in my pants?”

“No,” Charlie chuckles, “I”m not just saying it to get in your pants. I like you.”

“Well in that case,” you slide your other hand under Charlie’s shirt, “Where else do you know to touch someone, Charlie?”

Charlie shifts underneath you, unsure what to do with his hands, “Um. Here?” he asks, slowly placing his hands on your thighs and gripping them slightly.

“Yes, good. Where else?”

You’re slowly trailing your fingers up and down Charlie’s torso, sending goosebumps all over his skin as he struggles to speak properly.

“Here,” is all he can choke out, running his shaky hands along your hips and waist.

“Uh-huh,” you slip your hands from under Charlie’s shirt and put them on top of his, “Want me to guide you or do you think you’ve got it?”

“You can guide me if you want to,” Charlie says, biting his lip.

You grab Charlie’s hands and move them under your shirt to your covered breasts, “Sprawl out your fingers and squeeze with them.”

Charlie does as told, and he does it perfectly. It’s probably the most simple way you can touch someone, though. But you don’t mind.

“You can squeeze them all you want either under my shirt or without my shirt,” you run your fingers through the hair on the side of Charlie’s head.

You let go of Charlie’s hands, letting him do as he pleased. He squeezes at your breasts, moving his hands in different ways to elicit moans from you. Before Charlie can decide, you go ahead and strip off your shirt and your binder/bra. Your nipples harden at the sudden exposure to cooler air and Charlie stares at them, unsure of what to do next.

“What do you want to do with them, Charlie? You can suck them, bite them, pull them, whatever you want,” you say, leaning in closer to Charlie’s face.

“Can I do both?” Charlie asks.

“At the same time or?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yes. You can do one thing to one while you do something else to the other if that’s what you want to do.”

Charlie slowly takes one of your nipples into his mouth, experimentally licking at it while rubbing circles on your other. The sensual movements of Charlie’s finger and tongue cause you to moan softly. You continue to card your fingers through his hair as he moves his tongue and finger a little faster than before. He then pulls away from your nipple, a string of saliva still connecting it to his mouth. Charlie then moves to the other nipple and flicks his tongue against it without sucking it between his lips. He heistantly pinches the nipple he just had his mouth on, his spit adding the perfect amount of lubrication. Your hips involuntarily buck forward at the feeling of Charlie’s tongue lapping at the sensitive bud. He then fully takes it into his mouth, lightly running his teeth around it. Charlie holds back a smirk at the high pitched noise you let out at the sensation of teeth. He decides to try holding your nipple with his teeth and then licking it at the same time, just to see how you react. Your hand that’s in Charlie’s hair suddenly grips the dirty blonde locks harshly, and Charlie moans around you, adding vibration to the mix. So you pull his hair again. You feel him grow a tad harder underneath you.

“You like that, don’t you Charlie?” you bite your lip as he looks up at you through his eyelashes, suckling at your breast.

“I do,” he sighs contently, moving back to your left breast and pinching it lightly before massaging you again.

“Do you know where else to touch?” you ask, becoming a little needy at this point.

Charlie’s mouth was so good you can’t possibly imagine how it feels elsewhere. And his long fingers? Why didn’t you think of this sooner?

Charlie looks incredibly nervous now as he moves his hands to your upper thighs.

“Just remember that you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” you say gently.

“I want to touch you and make you feel good,” Charlie says, shakily unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans.

“Let me lay down so it’s not as awkward for both of us,” you say, climbing off of Charlie’s lap and onto the bed, “I trust that you know kinda what to do, but take your time. If you need help don’t hesitate to ask.”

Charlie nods, nestling himself between your legs, resting on his stomach and elbows. You push your pants and underwear down your thighs, letting Charlie pull them down the rest of the way. When your clothes are pushed off your feet, Charlie returns to his position and his eyes grow large at the sight of your bare pussy. He’s breathless as he slowly runs a curious finger up your glistening slit, causing you to gasp. He does the movement again, this time applying some more pressure. Charlie is amazed at how wet you are from him playing with your breasts, but he figures you’re probably into that. He knows that when someone is wet, they feel good, so seeing how soaked you are for him makes his confidence skyrocket. You spread your legs further apart, letting Charlie get a full view. He runs his finger over what he thinks may be your clit, but he’s not too sure.

“Move your finger up and you’ll feel it,” you grab Charlie’s hand and guide it upward just a little.

The tip of his finger brushes against the correct spot and you hum in approval, “Right there.”

Charlie circles your clit with his finger slowly, almost tantalizing, “Like this?”

“Just like that,” you say weakly, “God, you’re getting me so wet.”

Charlie leans in and kisses your inner thighs, wanting to bury his face in your arousal, but only with your permission.

You sense his hesitation, “You can lick it if you want. You can do anything you’re comfortable with, Charlie. I promise.”

Charlie gives your clit a tentative lick, and for a moment his licking isn’t pressured enough.

“You can lick harder, you won’t hurt me,” you said brushing some hair from Charlie’s face.

“Okay,” Charlie breathes out, licking from bottom to top in one long stripe, gathering your wetness on his tongue. He figures it’d feel good to you if he had some lubrication on your clit while licking it. And he’s right. As he swirls his tongue around your bundle of nerves, you swivel your hips to the same rhythm. 

“Fuck, Charlie,” you whimper, “Do you want to finger me?”

Charlie nods vigorously, his mouth not leaving you as he continues to lick you up, down, and all around. He was messy with it, but it still felt good to you. You take one of his hands that are gripping your thighs, pressing all his fingers down except the index one, and flipping his palm upward.

“All you have to do is find my entrance and push it in slowly until you’re fully inside, then you can bend it, twist it, or whatever you wanna do with it. When you think I’m ready, you can add a second one.”

Charlie nods wordlessly as he pulls his mouth off you, focusing on gathering the mixture of spit and slick before prodding at you and finding your entrance. He pushes his finger in as slowly as he can, watching you writhe underneath him. Charlie has his finger completely inside of you, and he experimentally curls it upward a little. The tip of his finger touches something spongy.

“Oh god right there,” you gasp, “You found it on the first try holy shit.”

“Found what?” Charlie leans down to play with your clit with his tongue again, curling his finger more forcefully.

“Fuck,” you sigh, throwing your head back momentarily, “Your finger is just the right length to get to my g spot. Keep rubbing it.”

Charlie wonders if licking in circles at the same time he circles his finger would cause a reaction. So he does, and you cry out.

“Keep going,” you say, letting your head relax against the pillows as it feels heavier with each stroke of Charlie’s finger.

He can feel you throb around his finger, and he slides it out before sliding it back in and hitting that spot. You thrust your hips in response, wishing Charlie would add a second finger. He decides now is the perfect time to see if two will fit. And his middle finger easily slides in next to his pointer, both fingertips pressing against your g spot deliciously. You begin to wordlessly pump yourself on Charlie’s fingers. He matches your pace, curling and caressing his fingers with every thrust. Your hands occupy your breasts, rolling your nipples as Charlie continues to suck your clit and finger you simultaneously. You feel like you’re going to explode.

“If you don’t stop I’m gonna cum,” you whine, “And I’m sure you’d like to feel me cum on your cock instead.”

You didn’t mean for something so filthy to leave your mouth so soon, but god, it causes Charlie to pause his movements and gauge what you just said to him. 

“Please,” Charlie gulps, “Only if you’ll let me.”

“I’m on the pill,” you say, hastily pulling at the bottom hem of Charlie’s shirt and tugging it over his head.

Charlie quickly removes his pants and underwear, discarding them somewhere in the room before clambering back to you, “Tell me what to do.”

“It’s just like your fingers,” you say, sliding your hands along Charlie’s chest, “Push into me slowly until you bottom out.”

“Okay,” Charlie says, focusing on lining himself up perfectly. 

Slowly, he pushes his tip into you, and your hands reach out for his upper arms. You grunt as Charlie continues to gently guide himself inside you, the stretch of his size stinging a little. But then he finally bottoms out, and you wiggle your hips to better adjust to him. Charlie is hovering over you, the most pleasured look on his face as his eyes close. He’s never felt something so warm and perfect engulf him like this. No wonder everyone else has done this already, he thinks to himself. 

“You can move, Charlie.”

Charlie pulls out of you just a small amount before sliding back in, testing the waters on how he’s supposed to thrust into you. Gradually, you let him inch closer and closer to pulling all the way out and then thrusting back in. Finally, he pulls out except for his tip, then sheathes himself completely inside of you.

The moan you let out is nearly pornographic as he hits you at just the right angle. This urges Charlie to do the movement again, so he pulls out, then plunges back into you. He does this over and over, faster each time.

“You’re doing so good, Charlie, fuck,” you grip his biceps as you move your hips in time with his.

“Only good for you,” he pants, his fingers digging into your hips for leverage.

You reach a hand down to toy with your clit, but when Charlie notices, he switches your hand for his. He decides to use his thumb since he could access your clit better that way while fucking you. Charlie rubs tight circles on your bundle of nerves as he continues to hit that sweet spot inside you repeatedly. A tight warmth is building in your stomach again.

Charlie leans his face down to yours, immediately capturing you into a kiss. The kiss is hot and messy- you’re both gasping and swirling your tongues together with mouths open as you both desperately chase your highs.

“I’m gonna,” Charlie groans, burying his face in your neck.

“Cum for me, Charlie. Such a good boy for me,” you whimper, rocking your hips into his at a ferocious pace.

Your words send him unraveling, and the sound that erupts from his throat pushes you over the edge as well. You grasp at his arms, riding out your orgasm as Charlie continues to rub your clit lazily. You push his hand away, but at the same time, it feels so good. Charlie brings his hand back to your clit, knowing the sounds you were still making means you like how it feels. After he carefully pulls out of you, he continues his movements. 

“I’m gonna cum again, please,” you messily swivel your hips, grinding your clit onto Charlie’s thumb as hard as you can with your shaking body.

“Fuck,” you cry out, Charlie still rubbing you hard and fast, “I’m-”

Before you can finish your sentence, you cum hard, your arousal seeping out of you and into Charlie’s hand. Your chest heaves as Charlie licks his hand clean before letting his hands rub up and down your body, your orgasm still fizzling out. 

“How did I do?” Charlie asks nervously.

“So good. I can’t imagine how much better you’ll get over time,” you smile as Charlie grabs his shirt for you to clean up with.

“Wanna stick around and find out?” Charlie half jokes, handing you the shirt.

“Only if you want me to,” you say, cleaning yourself up.

“I want you to,” Charlie says softly, “I still have a lot to learn.”

“That you do,” you chuckle before pecking Charlie on the lips.

taglist:

@Spatterpus @wqndasdarkkhold @leilani788

[sunkendreams]

Dwayne or David facesitting. Period. Like, vampires don't need to breathe! Hell, let em stay down there for hours. Also, am I too gross or crazy to think about having fun during that time of the month? 🩸

blood moon.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. | dwayne (the lost boys) x fem!reader

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓. | drabble — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. | 3.7K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. | SMUT (mdni), dubious consent (mild coercion) cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), reader is on their period, bloodplay (lots of it, he’s a vampire), facesitting, biting, hair-pulling, pet names (mama, girl, sweet girl), dwayne is hungry and he’s nasty, kissing, vampire antics, possessive dwayne, Dwayne is a little selfish in this

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. | wow ,,, a fic three days in a row ??? you can tell I’m hyperfixated because I’ll produce a ton of content very rapidly. Also, I love dwayne so much, he’s my daddy. ALSO — please keep sending me horny requests for the lost boys, I’m being fed !!! also, hello to all of my new followers & tlb fellows :)) love y’all and hope you enjoy!

A blood moon — it was a humorous term that your mother used to use for your menstrual cycle, something that you’d grown to despise with every fiber of your being. It was another unfortunate shackle of humanity, a reminder that you were still flesh and blood. Whenever your time of the month came about, you were always tempted to beg David for a sip of that forbidden wine.

The oppressive heat of the cavernous labyrinth that the boys dwelled within had felt somewhat comforting to you as you curled up on Dwayne’s makeshift bed, form contorted into the fetal position. A slow, agonizing pain spread throughout your lower abdomen, making your muscles feel weak and useless.

Sunset was just upon the horizon as you struggled to endure the suffering that you were forced into with each passing month. The mattress felt cool and smooth underneath your cheek, having abandoned the scattered pillows in favor of awaiting your demise. You wanted to sob, biting at the inside of your cheek, teeth scraping against flesh as your fists balled into the blanket.

Everything hurt — what began as a dull ache soon manifested into a pain that gripped your entire body. Your back was sore, head throbbing, and your insides felt as if they were being stirred around by the hand of another. You clenched your teeth, not wanting to move from your spot, anchored to your slice of space.

Once dusk fell, the vampires you’d been living with came to life, no longer hanging from the rafters of some dark, damp alcove. You could heat Marko and Paul’s guffaws and laughter, accompanied by David’s stern, tempered remarks. It all served as idle background noise, prompting you to close your eyes.

The noise dissipated — it was too quick for your liking. Silence settled in, save for the faint rustling of ambience within the cave, combined with something rattling around out in the remnants of the old lobby.

As much as you didn’t want to move, you sluggishly rolled out of bed, discomforted by the sensation of sloshing liquid rushing between your legs. It was the worst part of your cycle — the unpleasant sensations, the feeling of being wholly unclean. You draped a blanket around you, hobbling from Dwayne’s roost.

Strong, veined hands were buried within the grease-laden guts of a motorcycle, dismantling a variety of components. The vehicle was partially dismantled, stripped down to the metal underbelly. Dwayne’s dark tresses were disheveled from slumber, parts of scrap scattered around him. An elongated, metal screw was lodged between his teeth as he concentrated on his work.

He could smell you long before you’d crept into the lobby, but he hadn’t expected to see you in such a downtrodden state. Dwayne was often respectful of your space, especially during your cycle. It wasn’t something he would ever endure, but watching you writhe and suffer wasn’t entirely enjoyable, either.

“Dwayne?” You croaked, awkwardly shuffling across outcroppings of debris and dirt, draped in your shoddy sheet as you spotted your boyfriend. There was something beautiful about him, particularly when he practiced his hobby of playing mechanic. Specks of black oil lined his forearms and fingertips.

Without missing a beat, Dwayne turned to look at you, hazel hues drinking you in with reverence and concern. Dark brows furrowed together as he abandoned his current project, grabbing at the tattered, red cloth that rode around within his back pocket. “Hey,” That familiar baritone held a subtle warmth to it. “What’s wrong, Mama?”

You knew that he knew, but he still asked you nonetheless. As he swiped away at the oil and pungent grease, Dwayne stepped closer toward you, stooping down to press a kiss against the top of your head. You smelled wonderful, natural sweetness intermingled with that of your menses.

“Everything,” You exhaled, shuddering when his large palm splayed out across your back, rubbing soothing circles into your sore flesh. “Where are the others?” Admittedly, it was a bit unusual to see Dwayne alone without the company of the pack.

“Hunting,” Dwayne confirmed, and without hesitation, he hooked a strong, taut arm underneath your legs, hoisting you up as he carried you like a blushing bride. Cradling you against his chiseled chest, he made sure you were back in bed, where you belonged. “I was worried about you.” He confessed, laying you back against the mattress.

His throat was burning — a fire so intense that he wanted to scream, but Dwayne was rather talented at smothering his hunger for the good of another. His thirst would be extinguished soon enough, whenever he could leave the cave to find unsuspecting tourists. He sat down along the edge of the bed, hand massaging into your thigh.

Guilt rippled through you, knowing that Dwayne had abandoned the hunt to tend to you, this fragile human. His brows furrowed together — he must’ve been reading your thoughts. “I’m sorry. You should go feed.” You encouraged him, despite keening into the comforting chill of his hand.

Dwayne’s mind had gone elsewhere — there was a way that he could feed without having to abandon you. Of course, it was purely self-gratifying and your best interests were secondary to his starvation, which crawled across his stomach, burning a hole through him. He kept quiet, gingerly massaging your leg with his hand, which drifted towards the swell of your hips.

He didn’t like seeing you this way, agonized and letting yourself sit in the suffering. “If there was something that I could do to help, would you let me?” Dwayne asked, gazing down at you with an incendiary look. It was distinct, reminding you of the plethora of times he’d seduced you. Your stomach lurched, insides feeling as if they were withering away.

Your expression was somewhat quizzical, lips parting slightly as you reached for his arm. He was so much bigger than you — the strongest of the pack, urging you closer until his fingers could sweep away the hair framing your visage. That thick, coppery swarm of blood invaded his nostrils, singing his throat yet again.

“What do you have in-mind?” You asked, somewhat hesitant as he caged you in between his arms, bending down to press a hungry kiss to your lips. Sex was the furthest thing on your mind, but you relented, moaning into his mouth as you reached for his dark tresses.

Dwayne was a phenomenal kisser — passionate and slow, as if he were savoring every second of it. Though, he had a tendency to let it whirlwind into something ravenous and primal, fitting for the quiet, stoic vampire. He exhaled, kissing you with a thinly-veiled desire, hand moving to cup your jaw.

“Could take the pain away.” He uttered, withdrawing from your lips with an indiscernible expression. Dwayne was always difficult to read — endlessly complex, an enigma that you wanted to unravel. His mystique was always present, but you knew him better than most.

To you, it was an act of generosity — you were gullible, naive to Dwayne’s true intentions of feeding from you whilst making the ache fade away. Your heart fluttered within your chest, causing you to wet your lower lip. Dwayne’s thumb rubbed along your jawline.

“How?” With a soft gulp, you swallowed the growing lump within your throat, feeling his lips graze your jugular. His natural musk was enticing, often intermingled with the twang of stale copper and machinery oil. Dwayne shrugged his jacket off, bulky musculature engulfing you.

His shadow eclipsed any sliver of torchlight as he bathed you in darkness, gaze dusky as he gave you another deliberate kiss. Dwayne was silent, adjusting himself until he knelt at the foot of the bed, partially on top of you. His hand pushed against the inside of your knee, and that’s when you stopped him.

“N—No,” Your protest was weak, embarrassment rippling through your voice. There was something that felt inherently dirty to you, if Dwayne intended to follow through on whatever it was he planned on doing. “Dwayne, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” A shrewdness crept into your tone.

He read your mind — you thought he wanted sex. If you weren’t in so much pain, he would’ve been fucking you within an inch of your life by now. Dwayne’s chest rumbled with a brief chuckle, lips curling into a faint smile, pearlescent teeth glimmering against his caramel skin and stubble-coated visage. “Not like that,” He exhaled. “Something else. Help us both.” He murmured, stroking along your leg.

So that’s what he wanted.

Admittedly, you were a little nervous about the idea. He’d never insisted on feeding from you before, and certainly not in this manner. It sounded so crude and messy in your head. He’d bitten you, but never enough to cause any lasting harm. “I don’t know.” You mumbled, feeling another sharp, dagger-like jolt course through the pit of your stomach.

“It’ll make the pain go away,” Dwayne was gorgeous — like a chiseled god, crouched between your legs as he sought your consent. Of course, it was somewhat swayed through consistent persuasion, but there was something mutually beneficial to be found in this. “Let me.” His voice dropped to a husked octave, dripping with something amorous.

You were still hesitant, heart beating like a fluttering of a hummingbird, swift and constant, pounding just above your breast. Goosebumps coalesced along the length of your spine, crawling across your flesh like a tidal wave as he pressed a series of kisses against the inside of your thigh, face dangerously close to swarming forward.

“Okay, just — Just go slow.” Molten heat sloshed within your belly as Dwayne stalked forward, musculature parting your legs. He was so broad and strong, smooth underneath your fingertips as they brushed against his taut, veined forearms. He bracketed you in, arms like a cage as he kept you close.

Dwayne felt that blistering itch within his throat, the urge to feed, to savor the sanguine heat between your legs. He had no intention of being slow. Once the feeding commenced, it was difficult to stop. “‘Course, girl.” He nodded, dark eyes glued to your features as he flattened down against the mattress.

Sinewy hands curled into the waistband of your panties, slipping beneath the shirt you wore, one that didn’t happen to be covered in age-old blood. You were flustered, beginning to squirm as Dwayne peeled it all aside, menstrual pad included.

He rucked your shirt up, propped up on his elbows as his palms gripped at your hips so hard that it was sure to leave bruises. That smell of blood hit him immediately, scorching his throat and insides until it was all ash and dust. Dwayne was silent, broad tongue parting past until it drew along the length of your cunt.

Blood wept from your core, which felt uncomfortable for you, initially. You huffed, nearly sinking down into the mattress in a heap as Dwayne began to openly lap at your slit, drinking you in as if you were the most delicious thing he’d tasted. Your cunt clenched, nerves set ablaze as his nose bumped against your clit.

You tasted saccharine — coppery and vitriolic, but it was his sort of feast. Dwayne let out a grunt, lapping at the blood that oozed from your cunt, letting it linger upon his lips, invading his senses. Once he heard your sweet moans from above, he tugged you forward, a growl ripping through his chest.

Those aches and pains were sluggishly beginning to ebb away, soothed by the vampire who drank from between your thighs. It wasn’t as much as he wanted, but it was enough, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt as the pleasure unfurled within your stomach.

“Dwayne,” A blissful sigh escaped you, back beginning to arch off of the bed and toward his mouth. Your fingers clamored to hold on, finding their purchase amongst his tousled mane of jet-black hair. He’d eaten you out before, but not like this. There was the added element of blood involved. “D—Dwayne, don’t stop.” You whimpered.

Within the dim light of the alcove, those orange flickers of light from the small array of candles made his skin look like velvet. Those dark eyes never left you, pinning you in-place as he drank freely from your cunt. Your menses stained his mouth with red, tongue occasionally drifting from your entrance to your clit.

A burnished, golden sheen glistened within his eyes, hunger somewhat dissipating. He wasn’t satisfied nor satiated, intending to drink his fill — as for you, he suspected you’d have to endure his constant lapping and sucking until you were nothing more than a sobbing mess.

Your poor legs were quivering, wobbling on either side of his face as he steadied you, hands clamping down to keep you still. He idly massaged into the pliant flesh of your thighs, tongue assaulting your cunt with a viciousness to it. Crimson dribbled down his chin, but your flow was beginning to taper off from your prone state.

A myriad of throaty, wanton mewls escaped you, toes curling in delight as he gingerly suckled at your clit. The sensation was temporary, fleeting as his attention drifted elsewhere, tongue lapping at another slow-trickling rivulet of blood. Dwayne hummed, deep and gravelly, stubble tickling the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs.

It was only when he withdrew that you were babbling and stammering, wanting to know why he’d suddenly stopped. “W—Wait,” You whimpered, pitiful as ever, cunt aching something awful as he licked at his lips. Seeing Dwayne’s mouth and chin drenched in a darker shade of scarlet made you feel hot, heat creeping through your belly. “Please.”

His hearty chuckle made you irritated, but it was short-lived. You watched as Dwayne settled himself onto the mattress beside you, hues a vibrant gold, his countenance stained in your menstrual gore. “I’m not finished, pretty girl. Still hungry.” He reassured you, and plucked you up with two strong hands.

You were eternally grateful for Dwayne in that moment, who placed you on his chest. Without missing a beat, he bumped you forward, and you were gazing down at Santa Carla’s most stoic, vicious predator. An endless hunger danced within his eyes, soon to be quelled by the delicious blood that pooled between your legs.

Dwayne could tell that you weren’t expecting this, and it certainly made it all the more enticing for him. You were so smitten, his sweet little human. He’d fantasized about having you sit on his face until you were nearly unconscious, but this was all the more sweeter. Embarrassment flooded through you, but Dwayne seemed entirely unphased.

Initially, you were scared of hurting him, a notion that Dwayne found to be a little too innocuous. He could hear your heartbeat pounding away beneath your collarbone, thrumming like the beat of a drum as he lowered you back onto his mouth.

Your knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his head, dark tresses splayed out like a halo. With this newfound angle, you were staring at Dwayne — or more like, he was gazing at you. His tongue quickly invaded your throbbing cunt, blood catching on his lips. It was messier this time, making you tremble beneath his hold.

A liquid heat coursed throughout your body, pooling heavy within your stomach. Cruor oozed from your throbbing cunt, and now that you weren’t lying on your back, Dwayne was getting another taste. He continued to dutifully lap at your slit, ensuring that he didn’t miss a single drop of blood.

It sat thick and heavy upon his tongue, beginning to bring some semblance of relief to that raging fire that scorched within his throat. His pain was relinquished, and so was yours — a mutual exchange. Even then, he wanted more, digits digging into your haunches as he flicked his tongue over your clit again and again.

There was something disgustingly entrancing about the way he greedily lapped at your core, face buried deep within your cunt, hungry for your menses. If he wasn’t a creature of the night, you might’ve been somewhat indifferent to all of this, but he was bringing you such a wave of relief.

You wiggled your hips, accidentally grinding yourself onto his face, and Dwayne indulged you. As he lapped at another stream of crimson ichor, you moaned, chest heaving with heavy pants and wanton mewls, hands perched along the rickety, half-torn headboard.

“S—Shit,” You exhaled, tears stinging your eyes as you began to make that steady climb toward your climax. Dwayne didn’t stop, never relenting or slowing any movement as he lapped at your cunt, broad tongue swiping over every inch of your slit. The pleasure began to outweigh any pain you felt, muscles spasming. “Dwayne!” A whine left you, head rolling forward.

A deep, guttural growl emanated from Dwayne as it rumbled throughout his wide chest. It was mesmerizing to watch him from above, your hands splaying themselves along his bronze shoulders. His mouth drifted toward your inner thigh, and he looked to you, seeking approval before he bit you.

With a messy, lazy nod, your cunt throbbed and pulsated with molten heat, causing your nails to dig into Dwayne’s skin, hard enough to leave behind crescent-shaped imprints. Golden, crimson-ringed irises flashed in your direction as his countenance contorted into something inhuman, monstrously beautiful in your eyes.

Pearlescent fangs and pretty teeth sought out the pliant, soft flesh of your inner thigh, and he bit down — hard. It left behind the angry-red marks of unusual teeth as ringlets of a sanguine color trickled down your leg. Dwayne licked his lips, appraising you with an incendiary stare as he hastily collected every scrap of your lifeblood.

“M’close,” You whimpered, shuddering when he pressed a kiss atop the freshly-formed bite. His face promptly nestled back to the cleft between your legs, drawing another stream of your menses into his mouth before seeking your clit. “Close.” You said again, breathless and drunk with desire.

Dwayne felt his cock twitch within his jeans, able to smell your arousal through the haze of blood. The siren’s song of cruor was far more powerful, but even then, he could savor both with a feeling of sheer delight. His hunger steadily dwindled, fed by your saccharine cycle — if only you were like this all the time.

His lips formed a tight seal as he began to suck, causing you to nearly double over. “Don’t stop, Dwayne,” Perspiration began to break out along your body, coalescing along the length of your spine, dewy beneath the shirt you wore. “Please, please.” You were desperate, wanting to feel that white-hot explosion of a release.

Exhaustion settled in, your energy having been expended by keeping yourself aloft atop his face. Your cunt tasted sweeter than anything he’d had before in his centuries of existence. Dwayne considered you to be his fountain — a very captivating fountain. His touch screamed with amorousness as he rocked you into his tongue.

At last, your body began to quiver, muscles twitching and spasmodic as you climbed toward your orgasm. Dwayne could feel your weight fall a little heavier atop him, and he happily supported you, so long as you were bleeding. He added that edge of teeth, letting them graze over your clit with a feather-light pressure.

It sent you careening over the edge, cumming onto his mouth with enough mewls and moans to last him for days. It echoed throughout the alcove, and you were on the verge of sobbing, having gained some sliver of relief in the end.

Dwayne lapped at your cunt through it all, consumed by the shadow of greed and possessiveness. He could hear the rest of the boys clamoring throughout the cavern, which soured his mood just a little. They had a poor habit of acting up whenever you were enduring your menstrual cycle — understandable, of course, but an annoyance for Dwayne.

With a grunt, he gently nudged you back onto the taut, musculed expanse of his chest. His mesomorphic stature felt so solid underneath your pliant body, and your hands brazenly felt along his sternum. There was no heartbeat, forever frozen by immortality. His countenance was one of sheer satisfaction, lips and chin smattered in your blood as he licked at his mouth.

“Feel better, don’t you?” Dwayne mused, unable to withhold that little twinge of amusement in his voice. His large hand rubbed and massaged along your thigh, drifting up towards your hips, and then back down again on a continuous loop.

You nodded, feeling all warm when his body shook with a brief tremor of laughter. Dwayne sat up just a little bit, palm grasping at the back of your neck as he brought you forward for a very intimate kiss. A startled gasp tore through your throat, but he held you there, letting you taste yourself — ichor and all.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as your entire physique hummed and buzzed with satisfaction. Of course, the ache of your cycle never fully dissipated, but Dwayne had certainly done his part in quelling the pain, for now.

Dwayne gingerly patted the swell of your ass, copping a feel in the process before pressing another string of kisses against your neck. He grabbed at the hem of your shirt, rucking it up a-ways. He was quiet, and you were fine with that, eyes widening as he wiped his mouth off with the remnants of your nightshirt.

Jesus — you knew better than to tempt fate, arousal stinging at your core again. You huffed, taking a moment to compose yourself as you attempted to reach for your panties. He intercepted you, snatching your wrist before your fingertips could even reach the lace trim.

“Not tonight, girl,” Dwayne uttered, placing you right beside him, bulky arm curling around your frame. He made you feel so safe — a glaring juxtaposition to his ravenous hunger and vampiric state.

You felt a pair of fangs tauntingly scrape over your jugular, able to feel the chill of his bare chest nudging into your back. “Might get hungry later.” He rumbled, pressing a chaste kiss against the back of your shoulder.

[lickuiddd]

The Lost Boys Valentine's Day Headcanons:

Cw: brief mention of sex

A/N- Happy Valentines Day! also, first post on this blog

David:

All of the boys are romantic in their own ways, but David’s definitely the closest to a classic type of lover. Expect red roses, a gift that he got, and a romantic dinner date to end the evening. 

If you decide to get something for him, he’s going to love it. Even if his reaction is simple or small, just know that it means a lot to him, especially if it’s something he can wear or carry with him; he has it on him all the time. 

He may not usually be the most openly affectionate, but on an occasion like this, he’s making sure you feel loved by him; you're one of the most important people in his life as his partner. If he’s going to go all out, he’s going to do it right. 

Given he seems like the type to enjoy more intimate moments away from an overly public atmosphere, the date and your time with him are more secluded and one-on-one. He’s got a special spot picked out for the evening, and it’s only the best, of course. 

If you're not already a vampire at this point, then expect at least an attempt from David to try and turn you, because what better opportunity would he have to do that than Valentine’s Day? 

Dwayne:

If any of the boys are giving you a perfect Valentine’s Day, it’s Dwayne.

He’s already a very considerate partner, but on a day like this, he’s going to try his very best to be perfect. 

He’s thoughtful with his gift, and by how observant he is, his gift to you is something you’ve been wanting for a long time. Dwaynes is the type where, even if you’ve only mentioned it once or twice, or if it was something you’ve shown him during a previous time together, he’ll still remember and make sure to get exactly what you showed him.

He would have a perfect date planned and would have something on the more casual side set up, like a movie date and dinner.

Despite making plans, he’d also want to make sure that you get to decide some of the things you do together, and in the end, he's just happy to spend time with you and see you smile. 

Anything you buy or make for him will put a smile on his face, and he’ll deeply appreciate it. 

He’ll be telling you how much he loves you, and it’d be like the first time he did it all over again. 

Paul: 

If you're not already smothered by Paul’s love on a normal day, expect it to be amplified by almost triple on Valentine’s Day. 

From the moment you wake up, Paul is giving you anything and everything he has and could have possibly gotten you for Valentine’s Day. Expect teddy bears, chocolate, roses—you name it, he’s bought it. He’d pick you flowers he found on one of his bike rides or find trinkets he’d think you’d like too, as well as other small gifts. 

Whatever you decide to give to him, he’s going to love, and he’ll definitely show it. He’ll show off whatever you got for him to the other boys too and brag for a long time. 

He’s definitely taking you on a date to the boardwalk to get food, play games, and go on rides together. He’s the type to want to share one milkshake with two straws or ride a Ferris wheel just to make out for most of the ride. 

Despite all the gifts and cute dates, it’s Paul, and what would the literal day of love be without sex? Of course he would love doing all the other things, even if you didn’t want to have it, but if you let him, he’ll have you under him all night. To say the least, by the morning, you're going to have sore muscles and bruised skin from where he’s left his mark on you.

Marko: 

Valentine’s Day is definitely one of Marko's favourite holidays to celebrate, especially with you. He’s a romantic guy, and he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to show you his love. 

The date he’s planned would include going for a ride on his bike along the beach, later grabbing food and just being able to walk under the moonlight while hanging out together, laughing and smiling.

Marko would get you something like chocolates and cute cards, but he would also try to make you a gift. I mean, look at his jacket; he’s a craftsy guy. He would put a lot of effort into the project, even if it ended up not turning out like he wanted it to, but it’s the thought that counts, at least. 

He’d adore any gift you give him, but time with you is just as valuable to him.

Similarly to Paul, sex is something on his mind, and given the chance, he’d go down on you all night if you let him. 

Out of the four, like any holiday, he does it the best.

[adalwolfgang]

Could i request platonic hcs for norman bates adopting a child, maybe one that was kinda just left at the motel? ^^

🏨𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁𝘆-𝗶𝘀𝗵/𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁/𝗱𝗮𝗱𝗺𝗮𝗻🏨

Today was a slow day like all the others. No one had checked into the hotel in a few weeks except for the occasional lost soul who would come in to ask for directions. Norman was too occupied in the backroom to here someone come in. Specifically two people come in.

Your former parent or guardian walked cautiously up to the check in desk, you excitedly following close behind. There was a skip in your step unlike your guardian, who was crossing their arms across their chest and a frown on their face.

A few hours prior, you were playing with your toys and watching a show/movie you liked. Your guardian had walked into your room, telling you to be ready to leave in the next few minutes and that you were both going to be staying at a nearby hotel for a few days. You didn't question their random decision. Already sitting in the car with a giddy smile on your face. You were excited to be visiting a new place. New places meant adventure in your eyes.

Now you were sitting in a lush chair, kicking your feet in excitement. Your guardian had told you to go find a chair to sit and wait in while they got your room taken care of. Due to the position the chair was facing, you missed the sad look your guardian gave you as they rung the bell, that alerted Norman, before quickly exiting the lobby of the hotel and driving off in their car.

Norman came bustling out of the back room, wiping off the front of his shirt to try and look somewhat presentable. A look of confusion crossed his face when no one was at the desk. More confusion flooded his face when he spotted you sitting in a chair, alone. No other adult or human being for that matter insight.

He made is way from behind the counter and cautiously approached you. You didn't seem to notice or hear him approach so he cleared his throat to get your attention. When you turn your face to him, the first thing that caught his attention was your eyes. They were filled with a mix of wonder and adventure. Norman barley caught himself practically gawking before coming back to the harsh realization on why you were there in the first place.

Your parent/guardian had abandoned you.

•Gives you your own private room right next door to his. It’s much more spacious than your old room.

•Mother has mixed feelings about you. Approves of you at first because of your innocent nature but also views you as a distraction to Normans work.

•Since Normans new to the whole “being a parent” trope, it takes a bit of trial and error but he soon gets the hang of things.

•Spoils you every chance he gets. Your room is decorated to your own liking, with whatever toys you liked, the walls painted your favorite color.

•Will agree to whatever games it is you’d want to play. Whether it be dress up, tea parties, hide n’ seek, coloring/painting. You name it.

•He tries to keep you away and out of sight from guests. He doesn’t want to risk the chance that whoever your previous parents or guardian were to show back up and decide they wanted you back. Since he never got the chance to see who had left you at the motel, everyone is a suspect.

•He tries to have a schedule and be as organized as possible so he can balance work and taking care of you. He makes sure you’re awake no later than 10 am, (Tries) homeschools you from 11 am to 1 pm, Bedtime no later than 9:30 pm.

•If you ever get overwhelmed or have a panic attack, he’ll either wrap you up in a blanket and lay you down on the couch OR set you in his lap and read to you.

•Names he calls you(Yes i know lots of littles): Little one, Little Monster, Mouse, Sweetie, (whatever else pet-names you think he’d call you)

[venus-haze]

Pretty Tied Up (Otis Driftwood x Reader)

Summary: Or, the perils of working at Red Hot Pussy Liquors.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. This takes place between House of 1000 Corpses and The Devil’s Rejects. Based on the Guns N' Roses song. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Armed robbery and implied kidnapping. Sexually explicit content that involves extremely dubious consent and sadism, gags, bondage, groping, and gunplay. Otis is pretty much his own warning. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Having regulars at a liquor store was a double-edged sword. You got to know some customers well enough to like them, but over time you’d notice they looked increasingly worse for wear as they came up to the checkout with their usual purchases. The exception, of course, were the Fireflys, who you always found unsettling, despite Baby’s attempts to seem affable. 

“My brother likes you,” she said one day, leaning against the counter as you rang up three bottles of vodka and two six-packs of beer.

“RJ?” you asked, glancing at her brother standing a few feet behind her.

RJ was always nice enough. Didn’t say much. Tall. Burly. Strong. Ruggedly handsome. You’d be open to going out with him.

She laughed in her usual high-pitch that always toed the line of being spine-chilling. “No silly! I’m talkin’ ‘bout Otis.”

You stared at her blankly. “Who’s Otis?”

“You know, long hair, blue eyes, scruffy ol’ beard. He came in here the other night. You must’ve made one hell of an impression. He won’t shut up about ya.”

Oh yeah. Him. Bought a bottle of whiskey and a stack of hardcore BDSM porno magazines. ‘You ever look at this stuff?’ he’d asked, eyeing you as you put a magazine with a nude, distressed-looking woman suspended by intricate ropes on the cover into a brown paper bag. When you first started working there, you could hardly stomach the sight of the rougher fare. As time went on, you found yourself hesitantly intrigued. ‘Gotta have something to do besides go to church on Sundays,’ you replied, earning a wicked grin from him. 

“That’s nice,” you said.

She snickered. “My brother’s not nice.”

“Is this everything?” you asked, hoping to move the interaction along.

“Hey RJ, you gettin’ anything else?” Baby asked over her shoulder.

He shook his head, approaching to pick up the crate you put the bottles in.

Baby handed you a wad of cash. She almost always overpaid, letting you keep the change, which was most of the reason you humored her antics in the first place. “Thanks darlin’! See ya real soon!” she said, wiggling her eyebrows, keen to something you were yet to be aware of.

Two nights later you were working the store alone. Your coworker Billy didn’t even have the decency to call and let you know he wasn’t coming in–or quit. He just didn’t show up at 9:30 when he was supposed to, and your phone call to his house was met with a busy dial tone. Asshole.

It’d been a slow night anyway, but you would have appreciated the heads up, or at least another body in the place when the front door was kicked open.

“This is a robbery! Don’t fucking move or I’ll shoot!”

Despite the bandana covering the bottom half of his face, you knew who it was right away. Long, graying hair and piercing blue eyes that were burned into your memory from his last visit to the liquor store.

You lifted your hands in the air. Your manager had told you on your first day that there was always a possibility of this happening. Better to just let them take whatever cash and booze they wanted and report it to the police once they left. ‘Don’t go playin’ hero. We got insurance.’

“Keep those hands up,” Otis said, slowly approaching the counter. “I’m gonna walk back there, and you’re gonna open the register for me.”

You nodded, eyes glued to him as he slithered around the counter like a snake, gun steadily pointed at you. 

“Go on,” he said.

With a trembling hand, you opened the register, the cash-filled drawer popping open for him. He pressed the gun to your temple, instructing you to put the cash in one of the brown paper bags by your side. You tried not to glance at him too much while you stuffed the paper bag with the money, finally pushing it toward him and sticking your hands up again.

“Alright, now turn around.”

“Wh-What?”

“I ain’t got all night.”

You glanced at the door. No way you could make a run for it, but maybe someone would walk in and be able to do something.

He followed your gaze and let out a cruel scoff. “Ain’t nobody coming through that door who can save you. I’m the closest thing to salvation you’ll ever get. Now turn the fuck around.”

With a shaky breath, you did as you were told, freezing when you felt the barrel of the gun press against the back of your head. His free hand grabbed your ass through your jeans, his strong grip almost painful as he squeezed each cheek. “Wonder how much it’d take to make you bruise?” he mumbled, almost to himself. He squeezed again, harder this time, as if he were trying to dig his fingers into your flesh. “Too much work when I can just cut into ya.”

“Don’t hurt me,” you pleaded, though hearing your own voice, you weren’t quite sure how convinced you were that you didn’t want him to do his worst. Knowing what you did about the Firefly clan, the rumblings around Ruggsville about the strange family–it would be pretty damn bad.

“C’mon now, mama. You led me to believe you liked it rough,” he said, voice gravelly and low as he slipped his hand between your legs from behind, rubbing the rough denim material and your cotton panties against your pussy, the friction hitting your clit in just the right spot for you to let out a shameful moan. Your hand flew to your mouth, the other clenched in a fist as you tried not to give him the reaction he wanted. Didn’t want to prove him right. Show him how curious you were. You didn’t even have it in you to fight back, not when you were on the edge, so achingly close until suddenly you weren’t anymore.

You nearly whined when he pulled his hand away, horrified at yourself, your reaction to his groping you. He grabbed each of your arms, roughly pulling them behind your back and tying your wrists together with something itchy and uncomfortable that dug painfully into your skin as you fruitlessly tried to free yourself from the secure knot he made. What the fuck did he use? Your eyes widened at the carpet burn-like sensation that’d begun to sting your skin. The roll of twine beneath the register. You used to secure some customers’ more sensitive purchases sometimes. 

Fingers and cloth forced their way into your mouth until you were gagged with the bandana Otis had pulled off of his face. He turned you around, looking you over with a slow, satisfactory nod. “I was having trouble getting over this mental block in my art. Started drivin’ me crazy. Y’know, they showed this nature documentary about a group ‘a lions a while back. How they protect and provide for their families, stalk their prey and go in for the kill–do you ever think about how we’re the only species where killing is taboo? For the rest of the animal kingdom, it’s just nature, part of the circle of life. There was a scene where the lion saw a gazelle from way across the savannah, and it was like nothing else existed except for its prey. It couldn’t rest until it tore that damn thing apart. That’s how I felt when I saw you.”

You shook your head frantically, your pleas of mercy muffled by your gag. Fat tears blurred your vision until he morphed into something monstrous, straight out of a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. 

“I ain’t gonna kill ya,” he said, roughly petting your head, “not yet anyway, that’d be a waste when I’ve barely even started.” He gave you a mean grin as he grabbed a hold of your hair by the roots. “I got a lot planned for you. Those magazines gave me a lot of ideas too.”

He lowered the gun, dragging it between your breasts and further down your abdomen until he reached the waistband of your jeans. Using his other hand, he unbuttoned and unzipped them with alarming ease, pulling them down until they fell to your ankles. Your breath hitched as he pressed the barrel of the gun against your cunt, the thin fabric of your panties the only thing stopping him from being able to slide it inside of you. 

Still, the cool metal sent a shiver through you as he rubbed it against your clit, black spots creeping into your peripheral as you hyperventilated through his sadistic experiment. He was hard. That much you knew, but what frightened you, perhaps most of all, was how wet you had become since he tied you up. Your skin still screamed against the rough twine that’d been cutting into your flesh, soon to draw blood as you kept struggling.

Your hips jerked, pressing the gun barrel closer to your pussy that was eager to betray you and clench around it if he just pushed past your panties and shoved it up there. You didn’t want him to do that, not in your right mind. But no one in your situation could be considered in their right mind, could they?

“Don’t fight it,” he encouraged gruffly, blue eyes piercing through you as he watched your knees threaten to give out as you neared orgasm. “Give the devil his due, mama.”

Your hands curled into fists, nails threatening to break through the skin of your palm. Then he did it. Slipped the barrel of the gun past your soaked cotton panties. Your brain short-circuited in a rush of terror and thrill at the sensation. You came, eyelids fluttering shut, a guttural moan tearing from your throat and pushing through your gag. Your limbs felt like ghosts, incorporeal parts of you that could only offer a vague sense of feeling compared to the sensation that overwhelmed your body, pleasure and adrenaline coursing through your veins all the same.

Gun be damned, you collapsed against the checkout counter, unable to support yourself any longer. Your chest heaved, unable to catch your breath with the now saliva-soaked bandana still shoved halfway down your throat. An astounded whine escaped your lips when he brought the gun up to his nose and sniffed. “This is it, mama. This is the devil’s salvation.”

He wasn’t making any damn sense, or your brain was too fuzzy to comprehend what he was saying. All you knew about the devil was from the Bible and that stupid Dr. Satan story people regurgitated like spoiled food. If Otis was the devil, you’d believe it, though.

The sound of a car door slamming shut made your eyes widen, and you glanced over your shoulder, your muffled screams of either help or warning to however was approaching.

“Sorry about this, darlin’. We’ll have a lot more fun later,” he said, hitting you across the face with the gun, sending you to the brink of consciousness. 

The bell on the door faintly jingled, and the last thing you remember seeing was a large, familiar figure walking towards you.

“C’mon and help me get ‘er in the car,” Otis said just as you passed out. "Don't forget the cash."

[small-sinclair]

Just making my mind go brrrrr—

Bo Sinclair x Reader

Tw: mentions his scars

************

Bo hangs his hat and took off his boots when he came home. The rain never stopped and won’t stop until morning or the next night. When it gets like this, his scars start to burn and itch. All day he felt like he was in his father’s old office chair. He wanted the pain to go and leave him be but it kept biting him like a dog.

The den lights and the kitchen lights were off, bottom half of his home without light, except for the dim lights leading up the stairs. He sluggishly goes up the steps as he unbuttons his shirt. All he wants is to slip into bed and forget the cravings on his wrists. The ache in his hands and the bones that bend and stretch rubbed under his skin unforgettably.

His shirt hung opened when he came into your shared room, turning the hall lights off before he entered, but he stopped and stared.

You were sleeping with a book opened on your chest, Jonesy at your feet. The dog’s head lifts sleepily at him before lying back down to sleep again. You looked like a princess from some fairy tale as you slept in one of his old shirts. Bo couldn’t help but smirk and grin to himself as he undressed and joined your side. He takes the book off your chest, makes the page with the bird bookmark, and blew the candle out. As he rested on his side facing you, you rolled into his arms and rested in his chest.

The pain in his body and the burning sensation from his wrists went away and numbed when you sleepily kissed his lips, saying, “I love you, Bo. Night.”

He remembered when his aching arms are for. He remembered why he loved this part of the day. Bo loves this simpleness, and it was the closest thing he had to feel normal. He kisses your hair, your forehead, then your lips. He could marvel and bask in your light. Bo brushed your hair back and held you a bit closer than he would any other night. He didn’t want the nightmares to get you. He didn’t want the ghosts of his parents to find you. He didn’t want you to wake up with matching scars over your soft skin.

He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take over. He dreamt of you, him, in a forest dancing in the rain.

What a blissful dream, sweet muse, he thought to himself. What a wonderful dream…