#darklylucid

[tinalbion]

Since I'm apparently slipping back into a 'Harry Warden mood', how about The Miner + spine-tingling, panty-wetting SMUT...please?

Omg well how funny you say that, because I also have been on a Harry kick lately. Idk but I feel we're on the same wave length on that regard, very cool I love it! I even carved my pumpkin this year with Harry because I've been in that mood istg

Harry is so animalistic and will take you wherever he damn well pleases, whether you're doing something in the kitchen and he just takes you over the counter, or even in the bathroom as you're brushing your teeth, the sink can support you.

If you tell him no, he can easily persuade you by touching you in all the right places. He won't forcefully take you against your wishes, but if you're not doing anything super important, why wouldn't he let you see what you're missing out on?

send me a character + fluff, angst, or smut for a hc

+bonus pumpkin carving for you ♡

[bisexual-horror-fan]

BEX!!! Congratulations on hitting 3000! That's fan-FUCKING-tastic...and very much well-deserved.

Now, I'm not here to send you a request, because I'm sure you've already received quite a few by now...but I'd like to take the chance to lovingly (and lustfully) remind you and the fandom of something left...unfinished...something we've talked about recently...a continuation of your sinfully short fic, 'Three Against One'...

'Multi-May' or no 'Multi-May'...this foursome needs to happen...at some point...

I can wait...you know I *adore* anticipation...

Hello Kelly! Day three of Multi-May which means that we have a re-vision of my old fic, Three Against One! Thank you for the excuse to do this, I wanted to do the same thing with Lessons In Faking It because this is gonna get a sequel and finally get that foursome we have all been craving. Plus I have always wanted to expand this, I added 1.5K to the OG and cleaned and changed this up, hope you all dig this updated version and get hyped for the later entry! Also, the council in The Boiler Lounge has made the decision that Sam Wescott and Buddy Swanson and Leslie Vernon’s polyam ship is called Mourning Wood. Enjoy that and this fic. 

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 4.5K. Sam Wescott And Buddy Swanson AND Leslie Vernon X AFAB! Reader. They/Them Pronouns. Warnings: Established Relationship. Vacation. Road Trip. Semi-Public To Public Hookups. Exhibitionism. Movie Spoilers. Some Fluff. Strap On Mention. Teasing. Dirty Talk. Buddy Is An Asshole But We Love Him. Threesome. Voyeurism. Outdoor Sex. Stalking. Threat Of Violence. Implied Foursome.

—

Three Against One. Again.

—

It was going to be your birthday soon.

Your two boyfriends wanted to do something special for that, they asked what you wanted and upon discussing it you all realised you had some paid vacation time that needed to be spent before the year was up or you would lose it. You thought long and hard about it and came to the conclusion of partaking in a road trip together. You have always had a thing for the macabre and spooky, I mean look at who you were dating, when the secrets about them came out it didn’t scare you off, no, you stuck around happily.

So the purpose of said road trip was to visit a bunch of supposedly haunted locations and do some urban exploring and camping. Buddy was of course very excited about the prospect of this, he hadn’t really done a road trip with anyone else, he did one once, technically, when fleeing Canada post the events of Centre Stage but obviously that one wasn’t very fun. Clutching his barely bandaged wounds with one hand while he drove with the other, leaking blood badly as he drove a stolen car away in desperation of escaping his old life wasn’t a good time. 

After he got patched up properly in a gas station bathroom, wrapping hastily bought gauze around his ribs and stomach under flickering lights, he was back in the car. He made the long drive to accept that fateful job at Camp Clear Vista where he met you and Sam wasn’t great either, it was lonely. Even if it did end up leading to the best summer of his life.

He and Camillia always talked about doing a road trip together, seeing some of the other provinces before settling down and opening that restaurant they always talked about. Taking a roadtrip with you and Sam sounded amazing and long overdue, he could hardly wait.

Sam would normally be just as excited, he took a road trip with Chuck once to visit a creepy wax museum she heard about and that was a good time, but that was different. Seeing something that is so obviously fake and an attraction, a controlled and safe environment but what you wanted to do was see some more “real” stuff, it made him nervous. The rest sounded great, long hours in the car, talking and listening to music, trying new food, camping out together, he just wasn’t that excited about the decidedly scary nature you wanted everything to take.

He tried to hide this. He did so poorly.

Sam Wescott was good at a lot of things, chopping wood, taking care of kids, starting a fire, hiding his emotions was not chief among them. His nerves were the most noticeable when you were all packing up the car, he had already agreed, you all took the time off, were gearing up to leave and he was chewing his bottom lip nervously, clearly lost in thought.

Buddy used this as a perfect opportunity to come up behind him, throw an arm around his shoulder, hooking around him, opposite hand resting on his chest as he leaned in close, “Awe Sammy baby, you look tense, what’s up?” Classic Buddy, the way he cooed that so easily and teasingly to Sam.

Sam turned his head, caught Buddy’s gaze, “Oh uh, sorry Buddy, just um…Thinking is all.” You rolled your eyes as you finally closed the trunk, coming over to Buddy and Sam as you say, “You are always thinking Sam, thinking way too much.”

“I agree, you gotta turn that brain off sometimes! It’s gonna be a great time man, relax.” Buddy’s hands rested on Sam’s shoulder next, giving a reassuring squeeze, and you backed him up, “Seriously, it is gonna be awesome. Calm down.” 

You had slid right in front of him, you were holding Sam’s hands as you looked up at him and he let out a sigh, conceding.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. Sorry, I know it’s gonna be a lotta fun.” Buddy pressed a kiss to his cheek and said, “Atta boy! Now come on, let’s hit the road, you got the first driving shift.”

And so off you all went and as soon as you were an hour into the trip Sam was wondering what he was so worried about. This was great, you next to him and Buddy in the back, alternating playing some of your music and talking, it felt good, felt right and relaxing, very needed, time away from all the bullshit stress of normal life and just being with his two favourite people.

“No, no, I am vetoing this-” Buddy argued as he held up the CD case of the disc you were trying to load into the player of the car’s dash, you ask, “What? You only get one veto a day and you are using it now? On fucking ABBA?” 

Buddy shoved the case into your hand and sat back saying, “Yes I am vetoing ABBA, we are not listening to Super Trooper before ten in the morning.” 

Sam couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his face, looking over to the pair of you playfully bickering about what CD to listen to in place of the one Buddy smacked down. Yeah, this was going to be a good trip.

You of course felt the same way. It was all great and you had a fun time on your first few stops, Sam even giving it up that it wasn’t bad doing it with you both. He still insisted on holding one of your hands while you wandered around some burnt out building but you and Buddy didn’t mind, and only handed out minimal teasing for it too.

The stopping at different restaurants Buddy had picked out while planning your route was thoroughly enjoyable for all of you, his pre-trip research paid off and you all ate at some great hole in the wall joints. 

Staying in the occasional motel when the weather was bad enough that setting up camp for the night wasn’t feasible did end up happening a few times. The first time you checked into one a few days into the trip, Buddy dropped his duffle bag by the door, whipped off his rain soaked windbreaker, tossing it aside and then leaping at the bed and before you or Sam could question his enthusiasm it became all too clear. Leaning on one hand and the other rested on his hip he asked, in an intentionally comical pose, “What do you think? Is the bed big enough that you could both fuck me at the same time comfortably?” 

You dropped your own bag as Sam scoffs, “I doubt it, look at you man! You’re what, like 6’3?”

Buddy cuts in, “6’2 actually-” 

“Right, I’m worried about you being able to sleep comfortably on the thing, forget getting fucked.” You interject asking, “And how are we supposed to do that, exactly?”

Buddy gasped, “No! Don’t tell me you forgot the strap-on!” You and Sam were already cracking up as he carried on, somehow still able to joke like this after hours in the car, “Oh my God, well, the vacation is called off.” He rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom before you or Sam had even caught your breath.

Once clean and settled down you were cuddled up in a bed just a bit too small for three, all tangled limbs and being impossibly close was cosy. The many other nights spent in the tent together, all having employed that trick Sam learned for zipping multiple sleeping bags together to make one big enough for three, were Sam’s favourites. 

Not to mention all of the illicit hooking up. In that tent you and Sam and Buddy caught up, mid-make-out, one of his hands between your legs and with Buddy’s between Sam’s, feverish passing back and forth and hands all busy.

In or rather on the car, you bent over the hood with Buddy behind you and Sam watching, his own hand busy while you are all under the stars. 

In alleyways next to bars or restaurants you just paid patronage to, and one really risky one in the handicap stall of a bathroom in a diner, you nearly got caught and after the person left without detecting you, the rest of said hookup finished safely back in your tent at the camp you set up.

Exploring and hiking was fun, you were all safe and doing it together, some of the locations you wanted to scope out were really cool and you brought along your camera, got some great pictures. Sam confessed while you were all at the highest point of a trail you’d just walked, looking down at the picturesque woods, that this was the best vacation he ever had and was glad you and Buddy pushed him to do this. He was happy, nerves totally forgotten.

Until the day of your actual birthday. The big stop this had been leading up to, you wanted to stop in Glen Echo and check out the Vernon farm. Initially Sam was excited about it, a farm, how nice and quaint, you even mentioned there was an apple orchard, apple picking sounded awesome. 

You all pulled up and you seemed so giddy, you practically bolted from the car.

He didn’t realise why you were so excited about it until you all started walking around and you began enthusiastically explaining the history of the farm and about who used to live here. Big gestures of your hands as you went and explained about Leslie and the documentary and everything.

You walked about the grounds, rattling off what you knew, taking stops along the way to expound further, “And he would fuck with the branches of the trees so if anyone made an attempt to get down from the second floor they would break-” Buddy would, “Ooo-” appropriately and Sam’s face would lose a little more colour.

The walk continued, you giving as much detail as possible and Buddy nodded along, still smiling, clearly loving how passionate and happy you were to be here, even chiming in on what he thought was particularly interesting and cool.

Sam got more and more nervous as you all walked around. Funny thing considering his own past but that wasn’t him, not REALLY, it was the Wood Carver’s mask who possessed him, under normal circumstances he would never do what happened back then.

You finally were all standing in front of the burnt remains of the cider house, “And then Tayor apparently crushed his head with the cider press and set the whole building ablaze!”

Buddy was impressed, saying in response, “Damn. See the more you talk about this Taylor the more I like her, she sounds really tough.” 

“Right?! She’s the coolest!” You exclaimed and Buddy looked over to the third and much more quiet one in your group.

Buddy nudged you, your head turning as Sam chimed in asking, “So Leslie is dead, right?”

You and Buddy stared at him for a moment, his eyes forward, nervous look clear on his face, surely his mind going a mile a minute, and then you and Buddy shared a look of your own, a small smirk from you, a raise of his eyebrows and you are on the same page. You say, “Well that is what they SAY but his body went missing.”

Buddy put on an air of faux concern as he said, clearly playing it up, hands coming up to his face, “Oh no, his body went missing?!”

You stifled a giggle and leaned closer into Sam who was going just a little pale, “Never recovered it to this day. We think we are alone here but who knows!”

That is when Buddy asked excitedly, “So you wanna camp here tonight, yeah? Spend the night?” You agreed immediately and enthusiastically, arms out stretched, “Oh yeah of course!”

Sam glanced at you, eyes wide, “You really want to? You sure you don’t wanna maybe stay at that B and B we saw on the way into town?”

“Very sure Sam.” You confirmed with a confident nod and Buddy was saying then, more playfully, clapping your shared boyfriend on the shoulder, “C’mon Sam it’s their birthday and they wanna stay at the creepy murder farm.”

“Yeah Sam! I wanna stay at the creepy murder farm!” You agree and he sighs heavily.

“Sorry I am not that enthusiastic about spending the night where several people were killed-” Buddy cocked his head to the side as he fired back with, “And yet we keep on returning to Camp Clear Vista every year.”

Sam had to give him that. He knew there was no winning against Buddy’s stubbornness along with your birthday wish so he agreed, tone a mix of frustration and resignation, “Alright, we should unpack and set up camp before it gets dark.”

“Hell yes! Thank you Sammy.” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips and Buddy parroted what you said, smiling as his hand came up and ruffled Sam’s short hair in the way he knew bugged him, “Yeah thanks Sammy!”

Sam swatted Buddy away but he was smiling now, clearly fond. 

So the rest of the afternoon was dedicated to setting up the camp.

You chose a place in between the barn and the apple orchard, you dug the fire pit, Buddy put up the tent, and Sam, taking a fallen tree he had found, managed to split some of it up to make some logs for you all to sit on around the fire as well as using it for some actual fire wood. It was nice but Sam still seemed nervous, kept looking like something was off, even with the axe in his hands. You and Buddy did your best to distract him but it didn’t seem to be working very well. 

Hours later, it was after dinner, the fire was going and it was dark out.

You and Buddy had run to the car to get a bag of marshmallows to roast for dessert and on the way back to the fire you spoke up, “We gotta get Sam to chill out.”

Buddy sighed “God, right? He is going full Wescott right now.” You laugh but smack him on the shoulder, “Okay well don’t say that to him, you know he hates when you say that shit.”

“Well maybe if he didn’t go Wescott so often then we wouldn’t have had to attach his name to it-” You give him an unimpressed look, “Hilarious Buddy, truly, but c’mon, we need to help the guy out not make this worse.”

He groans and you sing-song out, “It’s my birthday-”

“I’m just messing around, you’re right, we should help not hurt, I will be nice.”  He concedes, both hands up and you say, “Thank you cream puff.” 

He gags and then says, “Oh my fucking God, what was that about being nice and not doing things your boys hate?”

“Ha, I said not doing things Sam hates, and what, you don’t like my pet names?” You ask and he says, “They are just soooo overly cutesy and sickeningly sweet-”

“Come on Buddy bon-bon baby, lighten up.” You tease and he stops walking, “I will vomit, right here.”

“No you won’t, not after you worked so hard on that dinner.” You say and he hangs his head before starting to walk again, “You’re right again, stop being right all the time.”

“Nope, it’s my birthday, I’m allowed.” You assert and then ask, “So how are we fixing this for him?”

Buddy hums, head coming up and after a moment he grins, looking over to you, “Overwhelm him?”

“Oh I love how you think.”

Your goal is to get him out of his head and relax, let him enjoy the evening as much as you had both been. The approach is easy, made sure he could hear you coming, didn’t want to frighten him further and you sat down next to him and he was quick to say, “I swear to God I heard something just now.”

Buddy sat on the other side of him, too close, pressing Sam between you and him as he said, “Uh yeah man, probably us.”

Sam scoffed, “No not you two, when you were outta earshot I could have sworn I heard someone, out there-” He gestured out the orchard and you shrugged, “Probably an animal or something. Don’t worry about it.”

That is when you made your move, leaning in, one hand to Sam’s cheek, pulling him closer and your mouth meeting his neck, you beginning to kiss makes his sentence stop short while Buddy’s hand sliding up his inner thigh made his breath catch already and you said into his skin, “What did we tell you Sam?”

A lick over his pulse point and a soft bite that made him tense under your touch and he stuttered out, “I’ll uh, be honest. I can-can’t really remember at the moment-”

You are busy with your task but you can picture his expression right now, brows furrowed, eyes closed and lips parted, totally swept up and thoroughly him and adorable, it makes you smile against his throat.

Buddy was there backing you up the way you usually did for him, “That you need to relax. Turn off that brain-” Buddy’s hand was between Sam’s legs now, palming his already hardening dick through his shorts as he added on, “-we can help you with that.”

It did sound appealing. He still had nerves and reservations but as you and Buddy both worked him over, hands roaming and wandering, tugging at his clothing, you kissing and biting his neck and Buddy’s fingers under Sam’s chin tilting him to give him a lazy and slow kiss on the mouth, definite heat behind it? Sam slowly started to let go, moaning into the kiss and returning it.

You and Buddy should have heeded Sam’s warnings, should have listened. Sam’s nervousness has validity to it, you weren’t alone and hadn’t been all day, he was right there, watching you. He was taking his time, he was used to the occasional gawkers and you three seemed harmless so he hadn’t done anything yet.

He thought you were all rather bold setting up camp for the night, he had every intention of stepping in and having some fun of his own but he didn’t expect such a show. The three of you had been really close and touchy sure but he didn’t think it was like this, that you were all together. He was interested. Honestly your timing couldn’t have been better, he was going to make his move right before you made yours and now he couldn’t stop watching.

Leslie had a thing for watching, a definite and total textbook voyeur, couldn’t help how hard he got off on it. You had already caught his eye earlier, so now seeing you making a move to get on your knees, starting to undo the shorts to get what you really wanted, about to start putting your mouth to good use, of course he wanted to stay quiet and see how this unfolded.

He watched as that curly haired man, Buddy, he overheard, was pulling back, one hand in the other man, Sam’s, hair as he started to whisper what he was certain were filthy things in his ear. 

Leslie watched the way Sam flushed, lifting his hips to help you slide his shorts down, he couldn’t look away as you took his cock in your hand, leaning in, giving what looked to be a loving lick over the head before it disappeared between your lips. You started to take more, slide him in deeper, your hand around the base starting to stroke and he could hear the groan Sam let out, watched as Buddy’s head tilted back with a laugh. 

You didn’t blow him for long before Buddy was whispering something to Sam, a grin on his face and finally that pulls his gaze from you between his legs to the other man sitting next to him, a nod, and the look of near awe and affection overtakes when he drops to his knees at your side to join in. Fuck, you and he shared him and that was something else. So they weren’t just sharing you, no, it seems like you all share each other. 

The view was so good that Leslie couldn’t help palming himself through his overalls, couldn’t help coming closer, wanted to get a better look, hear some of what you were all saying. You were all distracted. He was able to manage it even more easily than normal.

By the time he was close enough, you had your fingers in Buddy’s curls, pushing him down so he was swallowing more of Sam’s cock and you said, “God, can’t he take it just so well? Almost puts me to shame.” 

Sam lets out this delicious sounding moan, a small nod, still just mesmerised by the view in front of him. Gasping out, “So-so good.” 

He rocked his hips up once and looked so lost in the feeling of it. He looked overwhelmed, Leslie wondered if what he said next was because he was sweet, concerned and selfless or trying to stave off cumming too fast with two talented mouths working over him. “We should be focusing on you, it’s your birthday right?”

“The man has a point.” You agree and Buddy was pulling off Sam’s dick with a wet pop and a nod, “He is right, we should be focusing on you.”

And just like that the attention was turned to you.

The speed is impressive, the way they worked together on you still had a way of taking you by surprise. They shared you exceptionally well and after so long were able to move together with you with total ease. You were pulled into Sam’s lap, he was kissing you and had his hands up your shirt in short order and Buddy was pressed behind you, his hands working on getting into your pants and you looked really damn good in that moment. 

Your eyes falling closed, pressing closer to one and then the other, allowing yourself to bask in their attention, letting yourself to freely express how they made you feel, soft moans and gasping breaths, calling out their respective names in utter reverence as they pleasured you. Sam’s tongue in your mouth, Buddy had a hand in your shorts and was obviously fingering you, whispering more filth into your ears. Sam had only paused making out with you to get your shirt and bra off, tossing them aside, his hands and mouth working in tandem on your newly exposed chest. Hands cup, thumbs brush over your nipples in between indulgent sucks. This live show has Leslie’s overalls feeling far too tight. 

Buddy is speaking up louder, Leslie is treated to this exchange, “Fuck, Sam, can you hear how wet they are?” 

Sam pulls back, a breathy laugh, “I sure can, how you feeling?” He asks and you nod, “Mm, good, real good, ha-harder?”

“Yeah I can do that for you.” Buddy’s arm picks up the pace, your hips buck and you moan much louder, crying out a thank you and Sam’s mouth is latched back onto you.

You were squirming and moaning, grinding yourself between them and it looked like it was going to keep escalating, Leslie is convinced that you would be getting fucked out in the open by the both of them at once and fuck, it was too much.

Leslie moved quietly and carefully, and came around the fire so slowly, sickle at the ready. When he was right behind Buddy he moved forward. Sickle slices through the air, metal came down and lodged in the wood log Sam was seated on, it made the three of you jump, a frantic look and as soon as your eyes fell to him you said, “Leslie?”

Of course you recognized him. He was leaning against the handle of his sickle still stuck in the wood, stance was very casual as he said, “Hey. Hear you are a big fan. How are you enjoying your stay?”

To say you were taken aback was an understatement. Total shock, not sure what to respond with, Leslie would be lying if he said he didn’t find that at least a little bit cute, how much he got the drop on you. “Well?” 

He prompted and you swallowed, Sam’s hands were covering your tits now, shielding you before you were saying, “Uh good? Real, uhm, real good.”

“Yeah I was gonna say, looks like you are all having a really good time.” He leaned down, his face much closer to yours, his eyes were interesting, full of something you wished you could define but can’t, maybe you were too shocked, his smile is however undeniably mischievous. Leslie speaks again, “So much fun I wanted to give you an offer.”

“An offer?” Buddy inquired, confused, clearly his own mind reeling and trying to contend with all this, and Leslie continued, “Yeah. See I was going to have a good time with you three tonight until you started doing all of this-”

He ripped his sickle up, you all jump and he laughs, he gestures to you with his weapon of choice, still half dressed in Sam’s lap, the three of you still pressed pretty closely together, “-but I gotta say that you all present a much better option, one that doesn’t come around here often.”

You picked up what he was putting down immediately. A phrase you had seen once before clear in your mind, fuck to survive. 

The thing is you would have been down even without the potential threat of violence, although considering your choice in partners, the threat helps rather than hurts. Leslie is playing with the sickle, fingering the end of it as he is looking you all over, clearly enjoying the dynamic at hand, the power he holds in this moment, the potential of the night spread before you all. “Besides, I think it is awfully gauche to kill someone on their birthday, right?”

Gauche or not all you could think was how you were about to get simultaneously wrecked and spoiled all at once. Happy fucking birthday to you. A verbal response wasn’t what you have, what you did do was reach out, fingers caught in the torn collar of his shirt and you pulled him forward and down, giving your consent with your mouth in a different but entirely welcome fashion.

Sam was wrong, it was gonna be a good night, you could tell.

[visceravalentines]

*BOOP*

[forlorn-crows]

Yellow, red & sky blue!

yo we got another member for crow's personal mafia over here a murder if you will

listen if i had a dick im certain it would be big, i dont make the rules.

[applesontheground]

I see your love for the Baghuul...and raise you...The Babadook?

Me when watching the movie...

OOO OKAY I SEE U AND UR HAT MAN 💝

[vincent-sinclair-deserved-better]

CYLAS.

Cylas OMG.

Last night, I was eating Haribo gummy bears, and dreading tasting 'the green ones', because I *still* loathe green apple candy flavour ever since 'The Green Apple Vodka Incident' years ago.

But...surprise! I actually liked them!

Here I was thinking I can actually stomach a flavour that was one of my favourite flavours as a kid again!

THEN...I went on the internet and learned of Germany's greatest LIE.

The green apple Haribo gummy bear ISN'T green apple flavoured...

...It's STRAWBERRY flavoured.

Lies.

Lies and deception.

I now have to go and buy some Jolly Rancher hard candy and see if I can handle my 'green apple'.

AND buy some more Haribo Gummy Bears, because I ate the whole pack.

*Sobs dramatically* (😂)

IT IS WHAT NOW

[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.

[mrsaltieri-real]

First Love, Familiar Love (Billy Loomis x Fem!AFAB!Reader)

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: language, smut, oral, (fem receiving) fingering, p in v, creampie, cheating, (kinda) first love, semi-public sex, light dirty talk, pre-established toxic relationship.

A/N: I’m so happy to have (finally) written my first full length Billy Loomis fic! I’ve done a lot of Ethan and a fuck ton of Mickey, how dare I have taken so long to write for the fine as fuck OG! Going to dabble in some poly!Ghostface soon which I’m very excited about but for now, sit back, relax and I hope you enjoy!

@darklylucid I have a feeling your Billy loving self will get a kick outta this for sure ;)

You’d never given much thought to relationships since your last. The thought of never having another first filled you with an undeniable sense of unease. No more first kisses, first date, first fuck, what was the point?

Why commit yourself to a long life of repetition when you could simply carry on having firsts? Especially when you couldn’t have the person you’d already had your firsts with anymore.

Billy was someone you hadn’t paid much attention to, not since the two of you had ended your very brief yet even more intense relationship a few years back.

The two of you were young, stupid and each other's firsts. It wasn’t a healthy relationship by any means, and it ended as such. Even though you knew it was definitely for the best, you knew there was a part of you that didn’t think it was over. Not yet.

He was hot, undoubtedly having grown into himself over the years when you’d stopped paying attention, but he had also grown more serious. He constantly looked like he was deep in thought, gnawing on the tip of his pen in class whilst clearly not paying attention on the few occasions you’d find your eyes drifting over to him, seeing him completely lost in his own mind.

You didn’t run in the same social circle anymore, inside of school or out. Although that being the case, your friend and colleague at the video store, Randy most certainly did.

It never made much sense as to why Randy would hang around with the likes of Billy Loomis. Other than their shared affiliation of horror movies, they seemed to merely tolerate each other, if that. You were met with the angry rambling of what Billy had done that day from Randy, listening to the boy curse about how much of an asshole he was.

How could you possibly begin to forget about Billy when he was brought up practically all of the time?

“If he’s so much of an asshole, stop hanging out with the guy.” You’d suggested after a particularly long rant from Randy about him, mindlessly drumming your fingers on the counter.

Randy scoffed, pulling the red vine he was chewing on out of his mouth before replying, “I’ve been friends with the rest of them for years, I’m not just gonna stop hanging out with them because Billy Loomis is a fucking asshole.”

You rolled your eyes, sarcastically holding up your hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, whatever. You go home and chill the hell out, I’ll close up.”

Randy hopped down from the register, patting you on the shoulder as you said goodbye.

Being here by yourself was always better anyway. You liked to clean and organize, finding order in the never ending chaos, but it never surprised you just how messy the store would get by the time closing rolled around. The popcorn machine Randy had recommended to the manager like an idiot needed a thorough deep cleaning, kernels were scattered everywhere, tapes were placed in the wrong section, some of them somehow seemed to be missing altogether.

Fucking mahem.

You heard the tingling of the bell above the door as it swung open. “Sorry, we’re closed,” you called out, not bothering to look up from your sweeping.

The door clicked closed quietly and you briefly paused before glancing up.

Billy stood leaning against the counter, his fingers drumming lightly against the withered old wood. He was quite clearly relishing in your confused expression as you looked back at him with cautious eyes.

“Hey… Billy.” You said, eyeing him briefly. “Randy’s gone home.”

“Oh, I know. I was waiting for him to leave.” Billy picked up a tape that was laying beside him, flipping it over to read the cover.

Your confusion and curiosity continued to grow, but it turned into annoyance when you realised you’d actually have to continue to talk to him.

“That’s kinda creepy.” You muttered, letting the broom rest against a glass case. “We’re closed.” You said again, pointing at the clock.

He didn’t look at it, his eyes flickering up from the case to favour resting on you instead.

“Are you fucking him?”

You looked at him, eyebrows arching a fraction. “Am I fucking who?”

“Randy.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that burst through your lips, shaking your head in disbelief as you grabbed the broom again. You’d forgotten the fucking nerve of this guy. “Go home, Billy.”

You heard the clatter of the tape hit the counter as he began to stride toward you. “So, you are?”

“Yeah, I’m not dignifying that with a response.” He stopped about a foot away, his hand resting on the freshly cleaned glass display with all the rare tapes. “Can you, like, not? I just cleaned that.” You sighed, stepping forward to slap his hand away.

He didn’t move as you did so, seeming to find your reaction more funny than anything. “You haven’t changed much.” He commented, bringing his free hand up to swipe some loose hair out of his face.

You ignored his comment, looking up at him and feeling nothing but irritation. “Billy, what do you want, seriously? Because the sooner I clean up here, the sooner I can go home.”

Billy shrugged, drumming his fingers against the glass. “I don’t know, I was walking home, saw Randy leave, noticed you were by yourself. Thought you’d appreciate the company.”

“Mmhm. Sure.” You sighed, moving to step around him and deciding to just act like he wasn’t there. That’s when it hit you, the all too familiar scent of his cologne. It smelled exactly like the one you’d gotten him for his birthday a couple of years back. The smell rekindled the brief yet fond memories you’d had with him and it made your heart skip a beat.

Billy had noticed your pause and his face turned from indifferent to slightly concerned. He said your name, tilting his head down to look at you.

You looked up at him, blinking a few times before shaking your head. “Go home, Billy.” You said again, though your voice wasn’t anywhere near as confident.

“I miss you.”

Those three words made you flinch, your grip on the handle of the broom tightening. You didn’t want him to miss you, you didn’t want him to be thinking about you. Didn’t he have a girlfriend now?

I asked him as much and he half smiled, shaking his head. “Sidney? Nah, I’m seeing her, sure, but it’s not… like that.”

“Oh, so your girlfriend isn’t putting out so you thought you’d pop along and see if I would?” Billy seemed to ignore you, his eyes trailing across your body. You felt your cheeks heat up as he did, those annoyingly magnetic brown eyes felt like they were boring straight into your damn soul.

“No, like I said I was walking home and saw you by yourself.” His smile grew a touch, watching your face for any kind of reaction.

Liar. But why did you find yourself falling for it?

“I’m not fucking Randy.” You said quietly. He finally looked into your eyes, the half smile turning into a grin. “Oh, I know. But I needed to try and start a conversation with you somehow, didn’t I?“

You caught yourself smiling as you shook your head. “Asshole.”

Billy chuckled as he brought up his hand, letting his fingers glide across your cheekbone. “Missed you.” He said again, his voice much softer this time without a hint of teasing.

Why were you falling for this crap? Was it because he was your first? First fucking everything? Probably. But you caught yourself not caring as you leaned into his warm touch, letting the familiarity wash over you entirely.

“Missed you.” You echoed softly.

His smell was intoxicating, familiar. Who cares if you’d hardly spoken to him in years? Who cares that it took you this long to get over him entirely.

His lips touched yours before you finished your train of thought. Comfortable. Familiar. You felt yourself melt into it, your fingers curling around the soft material of his plaid shirt as you pulled yourself closer to him, his thumb still gently grazing your cheek.

Fuck, he’d missed you. How your lips tasted, how your breath would quiver and shake every time he was close to you. He couldn’t remember why he was ever stupid enough to let you go entirely.

Before he and Stu put their plan into motion, he knew he had to do this, he had to be with you at least once more time. Taste you, touch you, feel you. Because once he was “serious” with Sidney, he wouldn’t be able to lead you on like that. Not you, you were always his.

His kiss turned more possessive than gentle, his hands sliding down to your waist and under your shirt, his blunt fingers digging into your soft, bare skin. He felt your breathing hitch against him as he pulled your body impossibly closer to his, letting you feel him hardening against you.

It wasn’t long before he’d picked you up and placed you on the glass, hoisting your skirt around your waist and carefully pulling your baby pink panties down your legs, letting his fingers brush your inner thigh as he did.

“Fuck, look how fucking wet you are for me.” He groaned, sliding his finger between your velvety folds to collect the moisture before he brought it to his lips. You were pathetically oversensitive, your cunt clenching around nothing the moment he touched you.

He liked that, he’d forgotten how needy you were, how much your body reacted to the slightest of advances. He couldn’t help but smile as he continued to tease, fingers grazing your sensitive skin, barely even touching you.

It dawned on you how long it had been since you’d been touched like this, and you craved more.

“Please, Billy.” You whined, beginning to grow uncomfortable with the lack of stimulation.

For once, he didn’t need much prompting.

His mouth latched onto your aching clit, sucking at it hungrily and growing at your familiar taste he’d missed so much. His hands pushed your legs further apart for better access, feeling how you throbbed against his mouth. Your hands automatically fell into his soft hair, biting your bottom lip as you tugged at it, your head falling back.

He’d been good with his mouth before, but he’d definitely gotten better. His skilled tongue flicked over your clit, one of his hands moving from your thigh to plunge two fingers inside of your cunt as he continued to lick and suck.

“Oh!” You groaned out, fingers tightening in his hair as you pulled his face impossibly closer to you. He curled up his fingers in response, pressing against the spongy tissue and making your body jerk in response. He knew your body far too well, and had clearly never forgotten how to make you respond to him.

He didn’t want you to cum, not yet. He pulled away all too soon, smiling as he saw the all too familiar mixture of turned on and pissed off gracing your features. He straightened up, his hand moving to grip the base of your hair tightly, making you look up into his brown eyes.

“Do you want it?” He asked, voice smooth and even as ever. All you could do was faintly whisper “yes” in response. That’s all he needed.

Billy didn’t drop his eyes from yours as he smoothly unbuckled his belt, pulling it off and discarding it thoughtlessly, his pants coming down shortly after, but only part way down his ass. He just didn’t want to waste any time.

One of his hands dropped to your waist, the other pumped his cock a few times before nestling the tip at the entrance of your aching cunt. You whined softly, wriggling a little only to be grounded by his large hand before he pushed himself inside of your soaked hole.

You couldn’t help the gasp as he filled you, suddenly feeling deliciously full. Familiarly full. He seemed to feel it too, a soft groan in your ear as he pulled you closer to him by your hips.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this cunt so much.” He sighed into your hair, savouring the feeling of your cunt engulfing him for the first time in years. You were growing more and more impatient, needing movement and friction and he chuckled at you desperate movements from under his grounding hands. “I forgot how impatient you are.”

“Billy, just… Fuck me for God’s sake.” You’d meant for it to come out as an order, but it came out as a plea. He chuckled again, slowly rolling his hips back just to snap the forward again sharply, the sensation making you jolt and sigh into his shoulder.

“So bossy, aren’t you, sweetheart? Some things never change, hm?”

You ignore his teasing voice, your focus entirely surrounding how good his cock made you feel so fucking effortlessly. He hardly even had to try and here you were, already a leaking mess for him.

He held you more securely, one of his hands firmly pressing against the small of your back whilst the other swiftly tucked under your knee, holding your leg more securely around his waist as he fucked you.

He knew your body better than you did, he knew what drove you wild. The kisses he scattered across your neck and down your collarbone drove you insane. The way his fingers would dig into your skin, his breathing in your ear, the filth he was whispering to you…

“Fuck, Billy please don’t stop.” You begged him, pushing yourself down against him greedily, which he thoroughly enjoyed. He continued fucking your on the glass display case as he laughed out, “Think I’m gonna? No fucking way. Been thinking about getting back into this cunt for far too long.”

His words made you moan louder, your fingers clinging to his bicep, nails digging into the toned muscle harshly. He let out something akin to a growl, his own fingers digging into your soft skin hard enough to undoubtedly leave bruises in their wake.

He fucked you in a way you feared only her was able to, slamming into your convulsing pussy vigorously, ruthlessly. Your head fell back, eyes beginning to roll as you felt yourself being dragged closer and closer to the edge. Your clit bumped against him with every thrust, the stimulation only making you feel weaker and weaker. He watched your face, the look of pure ecstasy only making him more and more desperate to cum. No way he was about to pull out.

“Billy… Close…” You managed to utter out. In the past, that was his cue to prepare to pull out. But right now? Fuck that. He held you tighter, his fingers sliding from your hip to your clit to drag circles across it, feeling your cunt tense around him as he did.

“Do it.” He said, his own voice a little breathless.

You couldn’t think, could only focus on how fucking good he was making you feel. Your body stuff ended for a second before you came on his cock, your head falling forward onto his shoulder as you heard him let out a loud groan and a second later, his hot cum filling up your still convulsing pussy. But you didn’t care. Your body remained flush against his for a couple of seconds, soaking in the feeling of his cum filling you up so deliciously.

He gradually softened, pulling himself out of your stuffed cunt and casually pulling his pants back up before grabbing his belt.

You remained sitting on the glass case, Billy’s spunk mixed with your own wetness leaking out of you and making a mess of the glass. He couldn’t help but smile, shrugging once.

“Well, shit, you’ve got more of a cleanup to do now, my bad.”

You rolled your eyes at him, waiting for your thighs to stop trembling before jumping down from the display case and grabbing your panties, about to pull them back on before they were snatched out of your hand.

“What are you-“

“I think I should keep them. As a memento, you know?” He interrupted, the stupid smile that got you back into this situation illuminating his pretty face.

“Oh, right. Forgot how much you like to steal my underwear. Weirdo.” You muttered, squirming a little at the feeling of Billy’s cum leaking out of you onto your inner thighs.

Billy watched you squirm for a moment, the smile never faltering. “Mm. You know, I wish I’d cum inside you before. I like seeing you like this.”

You scoffed at him, shaking your head. “I have to clean up.” You said pointedly.

Billy raised an eyebrow a fraction, eyes flickering down toward your stained thighs.

“You’re telling me.”

[you-know-honey]

9- Bombing Per Eriksson

For: @darklylucid (Thank you for being my first comment and I hope you continue to like my posts)

It will be a pleasure to make you happy, I once again immersed myself in the enormous sea of Flickr and found some things, we live on crumbs but who doesn't want to see Per Eriksson?

[early20sfailingplenty]

Dark Lester HC: Lester's rage so far eclipses his older brothers it's in a whole other category.

Bo's rage is like the sudden backdraft in a forest fire that burns hot and bright as a magnesium flare, quickly consuming its fuel until all that's left is glowing embers.

Vincent's rage is like an approaching thunderstorm, but if you're lucky, you'll see the warning signs - lightning flickering on the horizon and an ill wind that precedes the downpour. Take shelter, and you might just come through the worst of it unscathed

But with Lester, his rage is like a treacherous rip current that hides beneath the deceptively calm surface of a great dark sea, just waiting to drag you down to the crushing depths if you're fool enough to get too close to it.

Even Bo and Vincent quail in the face of Lester's rage, so take heed.

What frightens them should frighten you more.

----

@darklylucid I found it!!! This is GORGEOUS and I'm never gonna be over it hhhh you make me MISS the brothers😭💔

[tinalbion]

For character bingo...what about the king of my heart, the creepy sexy bug nerd Asa Emory?

You know I absolutely adore Asa, even his glowy little eyes. I love him.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

After slowly cooking myself in 42°C with the humidex today (FUCK SUMMER), I thought of this while enjoying a refreshingly cold shower and decided to share it with you.

Forget 'shower thoughts' and embrace shower POETRY!

Mickey Mickey make me slick-y,

I don't care if it's a quickie!

Your bed or mine or even outdoors,

I don't care just make me yours!

I loooove me some poetry! Thank you so fucking much for sharing Kelly!

[morgue-ratt]

Fear Itself

a (somewhat belated) birthday gift for @darklylucid

Jonathan Crane x reader // 1.6k

You've been selected as Dr Crane's latest guinea pig! Yay!

tw// syringes, experiments, bondage, fear toxin, nsfw, this is my first time writing for Dr Crane,

THE scratching of his pencil has permeated into your dreams, now you were not free of him even in sleep. Dr Crane is always immersed in his work, always writing something, the pencil always scratching. You don’t know how long you’ve been here, or even where here is. You maybe had some idea at first but that had been weeks ago, now the only thing your conscious mind had to cling to was him. Dr Crane, the Scarecrow.  

He is working on something big and for it, his chemical weapons must be sharpened to a horrifying edge. Only the best for the Bat. The colors of the toxin vary from orange to yellow to green, the doses change. Sometimes the injections go into your arm, neck or leg. Sometimes, he fits a face mask over your mouth and nose and just sits back as you’re forced to breathe in the gaseous state of uncut terror. The duration changes, it varies from a few minutes to long hours screaming your vocal cords raw. No matter what, the good doctor seems content to sit back and watch. The only thing that doesn’t change is you. His unwilling assistant.  

Your body is covered in needle pricks and track marks. Your cheeks shine with dried tears that Crane hasn’t bothered to wipe away. One of his formulas had made you hallucinate things crawling under your skin, leading you to scratch your arms until you bled and then some. Another had filled you with blind panic and you had kicked Crane so hard in the chest he had deemed it necessary to wrestle you into a strait jacket. Now, as he strips away your sanity with each round of treatment, you can only lean against the wall of the Scarecrow’s makeshift lab.  

“Did you hear me?” Your head lolls to the side and you try to hide your face in your shoulder. He’s standing above you now, towering over you. “You’re awake,” He says. He has to tell you these things, otherwise you’d have no way of knowing. The syringe in his left hand catches the low light. Orange this time. The last one was green. The one before that... you can’t remember.  

The good doctor kneels in front of you. He takes your jaw in his hand so he can look at you, stare directly into your eyes and though you know it’s purely for diagnostic purposes, you don’t like it. “You are awake,” He repeats. Crane moves the syringe closer, and you pull away from his grip so fast you hit your head on the wall behind you. He lets out a sigh; “None of that,” He threads lithe fingers through your hair, gently scraping your scalp, and pulls your head to the side. You cry out as the needle pricks your neck. “There we go, nice and easy,” He says, his voice completely devoid of all emotion.  

Your heart begins to accelerate. This part stays the same. Your vision is going dark around the edges, you twist in the strait jacket; trying to escape the dread crashing around you. What will you see? Monsters? A family member? Will disembodied laughter fill your head? The walls close in? Or will it just be blackness, blinding you until he deems it time to administer the antidote? You start to hyperventilate.  

Crane lets go of your hair and leans back, watching you closely. His face begins to contort, twisting into something somehow even more vile. In your mind’s eye, you see his face stitched into burlap, a horrible creation of the doctor and the Scarecrow. His mouth is somehow both stitches and far too many teeth. You turn away and the horrible face is still there, a monstrous patchwork with eyes gleaming orange no matter where you look. Your blood is rushing in your ears, you barely hear it when he asks; “What do you see?” 

You shake your head.  

“What do you see?” The voice is horrible, it’s like its sending glass through your veins, it comes from everywhere. Crane reaches for your face, and you cringe, pushing yourself into the wall behind you. It’s ike you’re in a kaleidoscope, his hands are everywhere, reaching for you. He takes your face again and the need to scream grows in your chest like fire. “Tell me,” 

“No... nothing,” You say.  

He waves his hand in front of your face, and you flinch. “Tell me,” 

The distorted image of him is almost pulsating in beat with your heart. You can’t focus on anything except the fact you don’t want him to touch you. You barely hear your own voice through your own thundering pulse; “Scarecrow,” 

You can tell that he’s smiling, the mess of burlap and skin spreads in such a way that indicates his pleasure in this answer. “Scarecrow? Are you afraid of the Scarecrow?” He touches you, bringing his scarred hand to cup your cheek and you let out a short scream as though his touch burns you. His laughter shakes your bones. You haven’t heard him laugh since you’ve been here. You bury your face in your shoulder as the laughter echoes in your head. Crane runs his hand through your hair, his touch is gentle. Soft.  

A shudder runs through your body all the same.  

If he has been testing you all this time, tonight you finally have the right answer; gone is the apathetic doctor who gives you your medicine and watches with detached curiosity; now Crane is leaning in close, enjoying the way you flinch and relishing when a fresh wave of tears stream down your cheeks. It’s all for him, after all. He brushes the hair out of your eyes so he can better see your face contorted in terror, he holds you in place so he can enjoy every micro expression with that horrible grin. These almost sweet gestures are so at odds with the hot, all- consuming dread racing through your veins just as the toxin does.  

 Crane takes every excuse to touch you just to see you flinch and cry out in protest, you can’t do much else but even if you weren’t restrained you don’t know if you’d have it in you to do anything but cower. This toxin was designed to take down people much braver than you. You are no Batman.  

You feel his fingers ghost against the column of your throat and you jerk back, toppling over and falling to the floor. Your head is swimming, and you feel Crane lean over you, positioning himself on top of you. Your fear... and knowing you’re afraid of him. It’s addicting. He holds you still with one hand while his other goes for the throat, checking your pulse with his middle and forefinger. “Look at you,” His voice has taken on a purring quality and your drug addled mind makes sure to compensate, the thing above you has a mouth full of blood stained canines and deadly sharp claws like an animal, playing with his prey before the final strike. Your fear is crashing around you as Crane leans forward, pinning your body with his own. He’s trying to get as close to your eyes as possible, he’s all you see.  

You have stopped screaming, opting instead to cry and twist in the jacket, the straps digging in sharply into soft flesh. You’re convinced you’re being flayed as the rough canvas rubs your skin raw. Your breath catches in your throat as the strap between your legs goes a little higher. Crane’s grin spreads across his face as he takes account of this reaction. As you continue to struggle, you do nothing but push yourself to the line between horror and neediness. Arousal is arousal and you’re having trouble distinguishing right now.  

“Oh dear,” Crane chides. He’s all you can see; your vision has been narrowed to a pinprick. “Is someone getting their lines crossed?” You feel his hand pushing the strap further into your sex and you can’t help but moan as you grind yourself into it. “Do you want more?” 

Yes. No. More what? More teasing? More fear? More pain? It’s like your mind is breaking. Panic spikes in your chest, wetness pools between your legs. It feels good, you want to be anywhere else. “More...” You are more aware of your lips moving than the fact you are speaking. The hand disappears from the apex of your legs, and you complain; “No...” 

Crane takes care as he unbuckles the strap going through your legs. He’s amused, he can tell his toxin had had... a rare effect on you. “My, my,” You don’t have it in you to be ashamed. His fear toxin had reduced you to your base instincts. You somehow feel disconnected from your body while also being painfully aware that he isn’t touching you. You don’t even think as you spread your legs slightly. Your rational mind is eclipsed but when this is over, you’ll tell yourself it was the toxin that was making you act like this.  

You sigh when his hand returns, you watch him with lidded eyes. It’s hard to believe the thing before you even resembled a human being. Instead, there is a demonic face that looks like something Mary Shelley would come up with; stitches and teeth and eyes glowing orange like the fires of Hell. You don’t care. His thin fingers are making you moan.  

It’s hard to say how long you were lying on the floor with the good doctor. The entire time you feel like you’re on the edge of something while your heart beats madly in your chest and your blood rushes in your ears. Time ebbs and flows, it feels like it takes hours but you’re close and you couldn’t have lasted that long.  

You finally reach the crest, and you arch your back, chasing his fingers as you go over. The pleasure has taken over the horror, at least for now, but you still scream. Crane’s laugh surrounds you, eating through your flesh to your bones like maggots.

[visceravalentines]

Hey Vincent, I imagine it must get awfully hot in your workshop sometimes...do you ever get fed up with the heat and work...shirtless...? 👀

I-I mean...yes, waxwork can get pretty hot. You've got to protect yourself so sometimes I'll forego a shirt but keep the studio apron. It's a lot more comfortable without so many layers.

For that matter, sometimes you need an anatomical model and...well...I've got a human body, don't I? But you try explaining to your philistine of a brother why you're taking photos of yourself sprawled on the floor in the nude. Art is wasted on some people.

[ajokeformur-ray]

GOOD personal news!!!! (I am Proud™️ of myself)!!!!!

So, okay. I am slightly hesitant to share this in case it's only temporary, but @darklylucid very kindly told me to share it because it's good news and it's something to be proud of!!!❤️

TW; talks of negative anti-depressant side effects and me being irresponsible with prescribed medication, mentions of nausea and bad periods, mentions of health anxieties such as being sick as a result of medications and self-starvation (it's all because meds made me feel so sick I couldn't eat etc.), talks and discussions of stress, anxiety, depression and cognitive behavioural therapy, talks of doctors visits, one mention of covid boosters and bad side effects from that, one mention of passive suicidal ideation, this is a positive post but please read with caution if anything in this tw paragraph may upset or offend you!

I started therapy for my stress and severe anxiety five weeks ago. When I started, my anxiety and depression scores were both at 21/21. I was, essentially, a walking anxiety attack experiencing passive suicidal ideation.

Today, two weeks after uni officially started and five weeks after starting therapy, I scored 12/21 for both anixety and depression for the third week in a row, meaning both have improved to being moderate without medication!!!

(We all remember the absolute fear surrounding that fiasco and I still say medication wasn't the right treatment plan for me. I do have a prescription but I never picked it up and I won't pick it up because of how bad the physical side effects were. The nausea got so bad I was actively starving myself for seven weeks because I couldn't eat anything, while in the middle of end of year assignments and my job pulling me in for overtime constantly. My health anxiety, generalised anxiety and lifestyle couldn't sustain it. Everyone told me to "give it time", but after seven weeks of the worst periods I've ever had in my life and of constant nausea, I couldn't take it anymore so I quit my medication cold turkey without consulting my doctor. The medication was hurting me and not even working; I felt worse physically and mentally and my anxiety was still there, except I also felt like a zombie. I was offered a different medication but I never picked up the prescription for it out of fear that this would continue, since all SSRIs have the same side effects. I have told my therapist this and though she doesn't know any details beyond "I don't want to take it", she supports my decision. A week after I stopped my medication, my periods returned to normal and the nausea disappeared, my appetite came back and I felt better. I refuse to try again and have decided to focus on my therapy as the treatment plan. Medication isn't right for me and that's okay.)

I don't know if this improvement in my anxiety and depression is because of the therapy or because I now wake up at 3am to study before I go to work, which means that I study when I am fresh and well-rested, go to work, then come home and only have to relax, which means more free time. This decreases my stress, which lowers my anxiety and therefore improves my depression (my anxiety was so severe it caused the depression; they are not two separate conditions in my case), and means I can eat and sleep better and more.

The lifestyle switch and therapy both started at the same time, so I can't say for sure which has led to the improvement in my mental well-being, but I find myself not caring all that much. I am healing, I am doing well, I have had one anxiety attack in the last month, and that's... the news I wanted to share. My hair is gorgeous, I am eating and sleeping well, I am happier, healthier, I am not behind in uni, therapy is helping me... I'm not perfect, that would mean I don't exist, but I am healing and in a good place right now. I'm not sure if this is temporary, since uni has just started and I won't know until Christmas since that's when they throw us in at the deep end with the syllabus, but I still wanted to share this news.

I didn't think I could handle therapy, uni and my job at the same time, let alone looking for work experience in the mental health sector, but here I am, doing what I thought I couldn't, and dare I say it... I'm happy. I caught myself smiling while brushing my hair this morning, and apart from a few weeks ago when the covid booster gave me chest pains for a week, I can't remember the last time I had a tight chest due to stress and/or anxiety.

I can't thank you all enough for your friendships, encouragement, love, support, comments, asks... you've all helped me so so much, you do help me, and now I'm feeling better, I'm going to be looking at focusing on writing again. Especially since I'm not sure if this is temporary or not - but I feel hopeful for the future and for myself, for the first time in... a decade or so. I think I'm gonna be okay and right now, at least, I'm proud of myself.❤️

[applesontheground]

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